


Son of Onyxia

by Onity



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anduin goes through alotta shit, Angst, As in his heart is in the right place, Corruption, Dragon Anduin, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Family Feels, Gen, Hurt, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Ocs exist but are not major characters, Onyxia be dead yet still fucking with Wrynns, Oof that sounded angry, Recovery, Slow recovery, Torture, Trust Issues, Varian is a Good Dad, War Crimes DIDNT HAPPEN, Wrathion struggles with his own wants and fears, eventually, slowburn, there's a good ending somewhere i swear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 09:34:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 85,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21847513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onity/pseuds/Onity
Summary: In an attempt to corrupt Anduin Wrynn, Onyxia infused the child with her draconic powers. Her plans went unsuccessful as she was killed before corruption properly took effect, and knowledge of Anduin's edited biology went with her to the grave. Anduin is now 17 years old and Azeroth is unknowingly soon to be invaded by the Legion. Efforts from a concerned hunter lead to citywide panic as it appears that the prince standing beside the throne is really a black dragon in disguise...
Relationships: Wrathion/Anduin Wrynn
Comments: 82
Kudos: 240





	1. A Mother and her Plan- SON, I Meant Son.

-...-

“Good morning, Lady Prestor! King Wrynn!”

“Good morning!” The young boy cheered as he hopped into the building, Lady Prestor following him in. 

“A little chilly this morning, Mrs.Laurna?” Lady Prestor smiled to the woman who greeted them as they entered the Stormwind orphanage. The woman, whom was one of the newest teachers at the orphanage, was bundled in a wool hat, scarf, and a heavy coat. 

“Lady Manasaber was having trouble keeping the cold air out of the building today,” Mrs. Laurna smiled, then turned quickly to stop the young king, Anduin, from removing his own coat and hat. “Sweetheart, keep those on or else you’ll turn into a popsicle!” 

“Yes ma’am!” The boy nodded, half way into removing his coat. He fixed himself back up into his coat before running off to go play with the other children. The two women watched the child as he disappeared into another room, and not long after a bunch of children’s laughter and squeals could be heard. 

“It’s been awhile since the young king has been able to visit, huh?” Mrs. Laurna chuckled, the excitement from the other children filling the building up with noise. “Hopefully their energy warms up the place.”

“Is the arcane conditioning broken?” Lady Prestor asked, the door to the building closed behind them, stopping the cold from the outside pouring into the hallway. 

“I believe so.” Mrs. Laurna sighed. “Manasaber is trying to fix it. It’s not in our budget this holiday season to buy a new one unfortunately.”

“Hm, I’ll speak to Fordragon later, see If we can put aside some funds.” Lady Prestor replied, gazing around at the hallway, seeing the wooden walls decorated with crayon drawings. 

“That would be mighty appreciated, Lady Prestor.” Mrs. Laurna thanked.

The two women walked down the hallway and turned into a room on the right. The room was a large open play area, covered in toys and playing children. Most of the children were surrounding the young king. Anduin was about 8 years old, and many of the children here at the orphanage were the same age. Anduin met and played with them as much as possible, many of them some of his closest friends. In turn, they’d often be invited to play at the keep, but Lady Prestor sadly could not let Anduin’s invitations stand. The Keep was not a place of play, thus why they came here. 

“Let’s play with the theater!” One younger child shouted, a puppet in his hand. His hair was red and messy, his hat gone, as he tried to get the king to play with him. “Mrs. Festor made us new puppets!”

“Gaddy, please put your hat back on!” Mrs. Laurna raised her voice, hoping she’d be heard over the noise of children. 

“I got a new doll, Anduin!” One of the little girls hugged a doll close to her chest. “Her name is Betty!”

“I got new markers if you want to draw, Andy!”

“Uhhhh,” The young boy king was clearly flustered, so many of his friends wanting to show him all their new toys. 

“I learned how to make paper snowflakes! I can show you how to do that too!”

“I’m hungry!”

“Uuuhhhhh,” Anduin began feeling a bit too warm, so much to do, so much excitement.

“Andy!”

“Sara!”

There was a bit of a surprised pause as Anduin shouted back, focusing in on one of the children, the youngest girl in the group surrounding him, about the age of 5. Anduin pushed through the small crowd, making his way to little Sara, whom held in her hands some new dolls. One was a pretty human lady, another looked like a Kal’dorei doll. 

“We’ll play with Sara first!” Anduin smiled. “And we’ll go from there!”

“Okay!” The children seemed perfectly fine with this decision. 

Mrs. Laruna laughed as the children went along with whatever Anduin decided, the children moving to sit and play with Sara and her dolls. Some of the other children, like Maggy and her new doll Betty, brought other dolls and figures to play along too. Sara gave the Kal’dorei doll to Anduin to play with.

“It’s so funny to see them like this.” Mrs. Laurna leaned back against the wall, watching them play, and noticing Anduin pick up a hat off the floor and help put it back on Gaddy’s head before sitting to play with Sara. “They usually can never decide on what to play with as a group. When King Wrynn is here, they all have no protest, they just want to play with him no matter what they do.”

“They are just happy that he is here.” Lady Prestor replied.

“How long can he stay today? Lunch will be sandwiches and soup if you would like to stay till then.” Mrs. Laurna asked, turning to look at Lady Prestor. 

Lady Prestor did not look away from the children. “He’s getting a haircut at 10.”

“10?! 10 AM!?” Mrs. Laurna looked shocked, turning to glance at the clock on the wall. “He’s only got half an hour to play?”

“Unfortunately.” Lady Prestor sighed. “The king is very busy these days, Laurna.”

“I….I suppose he is.” Mrs. Laurna frowned, looking back at the children. Half an hour was nothing compared to how much time Anduin used to spend at the Orphanage. Laurna hadn’t worked here at the time, but Festor talked about how the young king would visit all day. Once he even got to spend the night here. Nowadays, the king would get to visit a few hours once every few weeks. It was clear how much Anduin missed his friends, and the children missed him. 

Katrana Prestor narrowed her eyes, trained only on watching the young king play. She crossed her arms, the expensive leather coat she wore a beautiful red, though not important in keeping out the cold. She’d not need it at all, she always was warm. It too was just another piece of the deception of Onyxia the Black Dragon.

Onyxia watched as Anduin carried the attention of all the children so easily. The boy was growing up so fast, and growing into his role as a monarch very well. Though Anduin was young and childish, he showed signs of traits Onyxia had hoped for, such as his ability to capture the room without trying. He was well mannered and kind with everyone, there wasn’t a citizen of Stormwind that didn’t trust him and love him to bits.

Anduin Llane Wrynn was not originally part of her plans here in Stormwind, but as he grew older, the black dragon brood mother saw him to be more valuable than any other foolish human. In fact, she’d turned her sights from corrupting the late king, Varian Wrynn, towards corrupting his offspring. In her original plan, Onyxia would corrupt the half of Varian that remained in Stormwind, keeping him a cold, dark, depressed mess for as long as he lived. She’d kill him off when the time was right, as would she his son, and claim the city for herself. It was her hopes, too that some power within this Alliance faction would follow, but that was for the future.

The plan now? As time had passed, Onyxia had found a strange form of motherly love in the child. He wasn’t her child, not by birth, but she and Bolvar had in a way become his second set of parents. Varian for sure didn’t raise him at all, the man almost never even gave the kid any attention. Not that it was in his power to. No, Bolvar and Lady Prestor were better mother and father figures to Anduin Wrynn than his own biological mother and father. Her plan now revolves around the child, and how she would make the child her own. She’d corrupt him, manipulate him, and use him to rule Stormwind in her place. And, if anything went wrong, he’d take the fall, not her. A sure getaway plan, if needed.

No, corrupting him would need to involve cornering him, probably wiping away his memory, but she was very skilled in this anyway. Years of abusing the child and stealing any memory of it made this part of the plot easy. Anduin had been beaten, starved, locked away and forgotten many times before, and it harmed his development in health, but that was all back when Onyxia didn’t give a shit about him. Now? Now she did, and she would not do such things again. Not to him. No, now he was important to her, and was worth better of her.

A screech filled the air, and pulled the dragon from her thoughts. 

“Ow!!!!” 

A small child, of whom Lady Prestor had no intention of remember it’s name, had fallen to the floor while running around, and scraped his knee. The child cried, goopy tears falling down it’s face, wails of pain hurting her ears. The teacher beside her went to go help the child, but much to everyone’s surprise, the young king had beaten her there. 

“I-It’s okay!” Anduin said, trying to comfort the child. Anduin helped the child sit more comfortably, and then moved the child’s hand away from his injury to take a closer look. There was blood, slowly appearing from knee, a small droplet falling to the floor. 

“Hold on, I’ll get a pape-” Mrs. Laurna began. 

Anduin undid the buttons on his coat, pulling at his undershirt, using it to wipe up the blood from the child’s injury. A red stain was left on the king’s clothing, but the injury didn’t need much more attention before the bleeding clogged and began to heal. 

“Anduin Llane Wrynn!” Lady Prestor frowned, her voice cutting cold into the king. The boy froze, looking up from the child to her. “You should know better than to use your own clothing to clean a wound!”

“I-I’m sorry, Lady Prestor!” Anduin dipped his head, his face flushed red for getting told off infront of all the other children. 

“You are king, young man, I expect better from you.” Lady Prestor continued. 

“It’s okay, Lady Prestor, I can go get another shirt from upstairs to replace it.” Mrs. Laurna butt in. 

“You have an appointment with the hairdresser in twenty minutes, we don’t have time to return to the keep to redress you.” Lady Prestor huffed, crossing her arms, ignoring the teacher. “Please, button up your coat before anyone else sees you with bloody clothing.”

“Yes, Lady Prestor.” Anduin nodded, buttoning up his coat to hide his stained shirt.

“You promise not to do this again, dear king?” Prestor continued. 

“I promise.” 

“Good.” Lady Prestor smiled, then giving the boy a small pat on the head. “You have fifteen minutes to play before we need to leave. Hurry up.”

“Yes, Lady Prestor!”

Despite the harshness in Lady Prestor’s voice, and the embarrassment the boy felt, everything seemed to return to normal abnormally quickly. The children returned to playing as Mrs. Laurna attended to the fallen child’s knee. The teacher felt an odd atmosphere between Lady Prestor and the king, but knew it best to keep her mouth closed. 

Onyxia continued to watch the children carefully, her eyes back onto the boy king. 

Anduin Llane Wrynn was loved by his people, and would be loved by his people if his selfless acts continued later in life. This was good for Onyxia and her plans, as that showed her that Anduin was a much better candidate for corruption than Varian. Varian? Varian had a tendency not to listen to his people, and that lead to the formation of the Defias, but Anduin? Any bastard who dared to harm Anduin would be hung from the neck by the city. 

This? This was good for Onyxia. Should anyone dare touch her son, fuck with her plans, they could catch her claws. 

-...-

Maliphos was a dragon hunter, self proclaimed. She’d been a temporary champion for the Alliance back when the Cataclysm happened. After playing a rather large part in taking down Deathwing, she believed the title of dragon hunter had been well deserved. She’d retired a few years after due to a nasty injury that nearly killed her. Her treasures earned during her time as the Alliance Champion gave her a nice place to stay since then, but recently her earnings were running short. This is what dragged her back to Stormwind. What she found while there forced her to stay. 

“Tako Manasaber!” The Dreanei hunter exclaimed as the door to a purple city house opened.

“Maliphos?” The Kal’dorei mage looked exhausted, a hint of surprise in her voice. 

“C’est Moi!” The Dreanei grinned. Her arms in the air in a mock celebratory fashion.

“Maliphos the self proclaimed dragon hunter?” Manasaber grinned, mockingly. “Still hunting down winged beasts?”

“No! Not these days.” Maliphos replied, then frowned. “Well, actually, kinda, yeah.”

“Kinda, yeah?” Manasaber asked. “Ugh, come in, I guess. And watch your staff! My doorways been chipped before!”

“It’s a polearm!”

“Polerarm, sharp staff, whatever, you can stab people with both.” Manasaber rolled her eyes. “Hurry inside! It’s cold out here and my heater is broken!”

“Again??”

“Shut up!”

The mage lead the hunter inside, closing the door behind her. The house was small and cramped, as most buildings were in the mage district of Stormwind. A long hallway lead to rooms on both the right and left, as well as a stairwell upward. The two turned into the left room, a small living room covered in mage nicknacks and potions and trinkets. The hunter, carrying a large backpack with two polearms, dropped her stuff upon the floor, a dust cloud of magic and color moving across the carpet. 

“I’m going to sneeze from all this dust, Tako.” Maliphos sniffled, sitting down. 

“It’s not dust, it’s residue.” Manasaber replied, messing with some of the odd exotic plants littered around the room. One of the plants seemed alive and snapped back at her. “Please, explain what you are here for, Mali.”

“Um, so,” Maliphos struggled to get comfortable in the room, but tried her best. “I came to town to take up some new traveler jobs, since, you know, those are always in supply. Been needing some money lately.”

“What the fuck did you spend your champion earnings on? You had enough to last your entire life time! You’re only a couple hundred years old!” The Kal’dorei barked.

“It wasn’t that much!”

“Oh, sure, fuck me I guess, twenty-thousand gold isn’t much.” Tako rolled her eyes again.

“Inflation!” 

“Anyway!” 

“Right, anyway!” Maliphos continued, glaring at her friend. “As soon as I got here, I noticed something odd.”

“Odd? When is there something NOT odd here in this god-forsaken pla-”

Maliphos leaned in, “I smell a dragon, Tako!”

Manasaber paused, then roared with laughter. “A DRAGON!?”

Maliphos turned red. “YES! What's so funny about a dragon here in Stormwind!?”

“You fucking dumbass!” Manasaber grinned. “There’s been a dragon here in Stormwind for the last fuckall years!”

“W-What??” Maliphos looked so confused. A dragon living in Stormwind? Was this a joke?

“Where have you been all these years, Mali?” Manasaber smiled, walking over to sit beside her. “The Prince’s best friend is a dragon, dude. Think his name is like, Wratherion? I don’t know, don’t care, but he’s been here for awhile.”

“Wratherion?” Maliphos frowned, “Sounds like a black dragon.”

“Yeah, ‘cus he is.” Manasaber nodded. “Dude claims to be the last black dragon, uncorrupted too, and I mean it took awhile, but most people have accepted him here.”

“...really?” Maliphos looked unconvinced. “When I felt the presence of a dragon, I felt something more...off….”

Manasaber leaned back on the couch, stretching her limbs. “Prince Anduin met the dude when he ran off to Pandaria, brought him back and since then has proven the dragon to be non hostile to the throne. At least, the king as given him safe haven as long as he doesn’t fuck up his trust.”

“King Varian trusts him?” Maliphos almost couldn’t believe it. “How do we know that he’s not manipulated?”

“Mali, I don’t fucking know the details, I just live.”

Maliphos glared at Manasaber. 

“What?” 

“How does Stormwind just ...accept the presence of a black dragon after everything Onyxia did to her?” Maliphos stood up. “I don’t understand.”

“I trust the judgment of the King and his son. They were hurt most, afterall.” Manasaber shrugged.

“And they were probably first to fall to the dragon’s manipulation, who is to say this hasn’t happened again?” Maliphos argued. “Tako, when I said I felt something off about this place, I mean it. I feel a hostile presence in this… dragon I sense.”

Manasaber frowned, pausing, a readjusting on the couch.

“What if this hostile dragon you sense isn’t the Prince’s friend?” Manasaber asked. 

Maliphos paused. 

“Mali, do you sense more than one dragon here? Possibly?” Manasaber asked, leaning forwards. “There have got to be more details in this vague claim of smelling a dragon. Honestly.”

Maliphos thought for a second. “I ... It’s possible. To be honest, this city has always smelled like dragon. The scent doesn’t just go away easily. Most places smell like dragon, especially since the cataclysm. But, I guess, I sense something off…?”

“Nothing you are talking about makes sense to me.” Manasaber gave up. 

“Fine, that’s fine,” Maliphos nodded. “But I came here to ask you if you would go with me to the King.”

“What? But you just wondered if he was being manipulated. Now you want to speak with him?”

“I have a plan to find the source of this hostility, and maybe if I can get a closer look at this Wratherion, maybe I can tell if it’s coming from him or not.” Maliphos explained. “And the King’s response will help tell if he’s been manipulated or not. I’ll explain a bit more later.”

“I….I guess I’ll go.” Manasaber sighed. 

“Good, I need you to perform a few...spells?” Maliphos smiled. “Draw a few runes, mage things, you know.”

“Whatever, just work on your explaining skills a bit more, okay?”

“Deal!”

-...-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So when I was new to WoW, i misread Wrathion's name and pronounced it in my head as "Wratherion", which I thought was a much cooler name when I found out I was wrong. 
> 
> Please leave behind feedback, comments, thoughts, as they are the best motivation a writer could receive. Thank you! <3


	2. The Whelpling's Cries

-...-

An ink pen scribbled down upon a thick paper map, scratching the old real noise in the room, the soft dancing of light against the wooden desk, and the smell of apple pie from the candle to his side.Nothing seemed to ease the dragon’s nerves. He dropped the ink pen back onto the wood and picked up the map, no time to let it dry. He’d deal with the smudges later. Sitting up, he pushed the map into an already overfilled bag, and swung the bag onto his back. He turned to a heap of items laid across the bed.

“Left, Right, I need you to hide these while I’m gone.” He huffed, already turning to leave the room. The two Blacktalon guards nodded, doing as told before following after him. 

Wrathion, the Black Prince, was in a hurry. Anduin Wrynn’s 18th birthday was in two weeks, and despite all his plotting, Wrathion would be cutting it close to getting his gift sorted out. See, Wrathion didn’t understand much about humans, but apparently 18th birthdays were very important to them. It was the age they were finally considered legal adults. This wasn’t going to stop Anduin from being called boy, but the prince could dream. Wrathion knew his birthday gift would need to be something better this year, so he’d spent a lot of time planning. Not so much putting into action. Which is what he would start doing today. 

“Ah, well if it isn’t the Black Prince!” 

Wrathion snapped out of his thoughts when he heard his name called, and realized he’d heradly sped across the Keep, into the Throne room. Despite how much it looked like he was going to go somewhere, it appeared he’d peaked the King’s interest. 

“King Wrynn!” Wrathion greeted Varian, who sat on the throne, Lord Greymane standing beside him, along with a noble woman. It appeared they’d been in a small conversation before Wrathion appeared. “You’ll have to excu-”

“You seem to be in a hurry.” Varian questioned, curious mostly, but also aware of the irony. 

“Why yes, I am.” Wrathion knew very well what Varian was doing, so paused to appear less bothered by it. “I plan on spending most of the day out of the city, unfortunately, could you inform the Prince when you see him next?” 

“Of course, but I’m sure he’ll want to know why.” 

“Well, I’m sure you could come up with a reason for me.” Wrathion smiled. “See, I know his 18th birthday is due soon, and I have the perfect idea for a present, but It requires my attention out of Stormwind today.” 

“This is hopefully something that I am not to be concerned about.” Varian replied. The answer was an obvious, yeah you probably should be worried, as anything involving his son worried him, but Wrathion would rather not answer the question. 

“I’ve been planning my gift out for weeks, King Wrynn, and acquiring it will take me through a rather difficult process that I must get started on today. Trading and bartering with several people all over Azeroth, things I should’ve started on a week ago, really.” Wrathion continued. 

“What in the world is this gift you plan on getting?” Lord Greymane asked, looking somewhat distrustful of whatever Wrathion had planned. 

“Now you’ve got us curious, Black Prince.” Varian agreed. 

“You must be patient with me, all will be revealed on the day of birth celebration.” Wrathion began to step away, but was stopped suddenly when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“What’cha talking about?” 

“Ahh, Prince Anduin! Speak of the devil.” Wrathion smiled, worried about how much Anduin had heard, and cursing himself for not noticing when the Prince walked in. 

“We were just discussing the new park, Prince Anduin.” Lord Greymane spoke up, gaining the prince’s attention. 

“Oh! What about the park?” Anduin smiled, “I visited it yesterday, It looks really nice. Much nicer than the hole that used to be there.”

“In the design we left plenty of room for objects to be added in, as you may have noticed.” Varian began. “I was just going over what the citizens have been asking for. We have many options, including memorials.”

“What about a swing set, or something for the kids?” Anduin asked. “We already have plenty of monuments all over the city.”

“Everyone loves monuments, Anduin, swings only impress the young.” Wrathion disagreed.

“Oh really?” Anduin rolled his eyes. “You speak as if the young are not our future.”

“I suppose you have a point.” Wrathion replied. “But swings are not the only way to impress the young.”

“What would you suggest, then?” Varian asked, leaning on the side of his throne. 

“Well, Stormwind city is rather lacking in plant life, save for say the graveyard.” Wrathion answered.

“A garden?” Anduin thought. “I think that sounds nice, actually.”

“I was thinking something more along the lines of planting some large trees, maybe forming a canopy above the park. You could employ artists to carve the trunks, maybe install bird feeders.”

“So a mini Teldrassil?” Lord Greymane asked. 

“Exactly!” Wrathion nodded. “What a rather good way to improve relationship with the Kal’dorei too, now that I think about it.” 

“It’s a nice thought, but wouldn’t the canopy be somewhat constricting?” Anduin said. “The Park isn’t that big. A better focus, in terms of plant life, I suggest bringing in all types of flowers from other regions.”

“My dear prince, wouldn’t that just put your local florists out of business? What would stop your people from picking the flowers? You do know that adventurers are almost daily picking all of the apples off the apple trees around the city, all because one chef promised to give them a ribbon and leftover product?” 

“It appears there is much to debate about.” Varian spoke up. “As is expected with any project.”

Varian turned to excuse the noble woman and say something to Greymane, giving Wrathion the right moment to speak with Anduin. He smirked, his voice lowered as to not gain the attention of the king. 

“This is all paid for, right?”

Anduin shot Wrathion a murderous look, something that screams ‘I can’t believe you just said that to me’, but the longer he kept the look the harder it was for him to keep it. He could appreciate Wrathion’s dark humor, even if he didn’t wish to admit it. 

“Forgive me, my dear prince.” Wrathion gently laughed. “I just worry for you Wrynns sometimes.” 

He paused. “All the time.”

“Trust me, the workers got paid in advance. We’ve learned our lesson.” Anduin crossed his arms. 

Wrathion frowned. “Really? Paying them in advance? Wouldn’t that only weaken their moral, considering there isn’t any pay to work towards. Everyone needs a goal.”

“Isn’t the park itself a goal to work towards?” Anduin questioned. “Not that I expect you to be completely happy with our decision, no matter what it is.”

“Humans are much greedier than that, my prince.” Wrathion shook his head. 

“What would a four year old dragon know about humans?” Anduin poked. “At least, what would you know that I already don’t? Wouldn’t you look forward to having a new place your family could play?”

“I suppose if I were human.” Wrathion noted. “But, really, that is a human way to look at a park. Anduin, the entire world is a playground.”

“That, Wrathion, is a very black dragon thing to say.”

Anduin then paused. “What’s with the backpack? Are you leaving me already?”

“No, dear, I have work out of town today.” Wrathion. “I’ll be back by midnight if everything goes to plan.”

“And if they don’t?”

Wrathion just shrugged. 

“Your majesty, you have visitors!” A guard pulled their attention away. “They say they must speak with you urgently.”

Gaining the attention of everyone in the room, the guard spoke directly to the king. By now the noble woman had left, leaving Varian with Genn. Anduin stood alongside Wrathion, Left and Right somewhere in the room surely, but other then them all that was left were guards. 

“Bring them in.” Varian nodded to the guard, who turned to walk swiftly back down the hallway.

When the guard returned, two people followed behind. One was a draenei, whom wore shaman looking clothing, but held upon her back polearms and traps that screamed hunter. The other was clearly a kal’dorei mage, one that Anduin recognized somewhat vaguely. He couldn’t remember her name, but he thought he may have once seen her on his trips to the orphanage when he was young. 

“My King,” The hunter stepped forward first, bowing before the king. “My name is Maliphos. I worked heavily for the Alliance years ago. It is a pleasure to return to Stormwind.”

Varian paused, looking the hunter over. “Huntress Maliphos? You were champion during the Cataclysm, correct?” 

“Correct.” Maliphos nodded. 

“My memory is cloudy of the time period. You were part of the team that brought down Deathwing, were you not?” Varian questioned. “Yes, I remember you.”

“I’m glad you do, your majesty.” Maliphos nodded her head.

Varian turned to look at the mage, who bowed slightly as well.

“Tako Manasaber, at your service.” She greeted. 

“Forgive me, I’ve heard the name before, but I don’t quite remember…” Varian felt like it was on the tip of his tongue.

“I used to work here at the keep before I moved to the orphanage. Now I help keep open the portals in the tower in the mage district.” Manasaber said. “I’ve worked all over the city.”

“I see.” Varian then adjusted in his throne. “What brings you to my attention, Maliphos, Manasaber?”

The two paused, Manasaber sending a glance over to Maliphos before Maliphos cleared her throat. 

“I have been out of the city for a couple years, so it came to my attention recently that I was out of the loop in terms of recent events in Stormwind.” Maliphos started, a quick glance around the room making her realize that both Anduin and Wrathion were listening to her as well. “Despite these recent events, I am still convinced based on my own research that there is something, er, hiding here in your city.”

Varian frowned. “Hiding?”

Maliphos continued. “During the Cataclysm, I became mostly skilled in tracking down dragons. Using those skills, I have reason to believe there is a dragon lurking among your people.”

Before any attention could be brought to the fact that Wrathion existed, which it seemed likely that the king would make a comment about, Maliphos continued, after taking another glance at the Black Prince.

“I don’t believe the Prince’s friend is the dragon I’ve found.” Maliphos added quickly. 

There was a bit of a pause in the room, Anduin stepping over from Wrathion to the side of the throne, where he would usually stand.

“I understand the concern, but I’m curious as to why a dragon would need to make themselves known.” Anduin started, but then realized how odd the statement sounded from him. “I suppose I’m just picturing someone like Queen Alexstraza visiting a city just to visit, not necessarily to visit the Keep.”

“The Life-Binder wouldn’t hide herself, though, young prince.” Wrathion stated. “Most of my kind don’t hide themselves unless there is someone they don’t wish to be seen by.”

“You have reason to believe there is a dragon, other then Wrathion, hiding within my city, possibly with malicious intent?” Varian asked Maliphos. 

“Exactly. I want to believe they’re of the black dragonflight as well, but it’s possible Wrathion’s presence has interfered with my investigation. Their presence has been all over the city, but what concerns me most is that most of their time is spent within the keep.” 

“Are you sure this isn’t Wrathion?” Anduin asked. There wasn’t anything the hunter said that couldn’t be linked to him. 

“I, yes, I do believe so, my prince.” Maliphos nodded.

“Have you any suspicion of this other dragon that can’t also be linked to me?” Wrathion asked, narrowing his eyes. The idea there was another dragon here that HE didn’t know about bothered him. His plans for the day forgotten as he stepped forward. 

Maliphos paused, as if she didn’t want to say something, but Manasaber spoke first. 

“Maliphos has found evidence that this black dragon isn’t of the same lineage as Wrathion. She and I believe this dragon to be of the Onyxian brood specifically.” 

Onyxia. 

The mood in the room suddenly shifted. The mention of Onyxia and her kin brought back memories both of the Wrynns had wished forgotten. Wrathion and Genn had not been there, but both heard of Stormwind’s past, and how the woman damaged both the city and the Wrynn family permanently. Onyxia caused the death of Anduin’s mother, Tiffin Ellerian Wrynn, and formed the Defias, infamous for their many attempts against the crown. She’d manipulated and controlled Varian and Anduin and much of Stormwind’s nobility for upwards of ten years. She was the reason it took Wrathion and long time to gain the trust of both the king and his people, and the reason Wrathion knew that one wrong move could easily shatter the trust he built over years. 

“We have a plan, if you would hear us out.” Maliphos said. 

“Go on.” Varian frowned. 

Manasaber stepped up. “I believe the best way to find this dragon would be through the use of my runes. I’ve developed a rune that I can hide within the city, mainly the keep, that will give away the dragon upon stepping on it.” 

“How do you know they won’t just avoid these runes?” Varian asked. 

“I have a special material i’ve created through other spells, made with a few different types of residue. It’ll be undetectable to magical users.” Manasaber explained, pulling a small brown bag from her belt. 

“If it’s undetectable to magic users, how did you find this material?” Greymane questioned. 

“It looks like dust.” Manasaber opened the bag, licked her finger, dipped it in, and pulled it back out. What appeared on her hand was nothing but a thin layer of dust-looking material. It was honestly not that easily visible from a distance. “But it doesn’t act like dust.” She blew air onto her finger, but not a single spec moved. 

“We’ve brought some in order to demonstrate the material to you, your majesty.” Maliphos added. 

“You have my attention.” Varian nodded for them to continue. 

Manasaber began work on drawing out a rune with the material she brought, careful with the fine material as to not waste any of it. Before the throne, she laid out a large circle like rune, with a rather complicated symbol on the inside. Maliphos stood aside, giving her friend enough room to work. 

“It is our hope to have permission to set up these runes in places I’ve determined the dragon is spending most of their time. Considering the keep appears to be highly traveled, we seek out your permission to access more areas beyond the throne room.”

“You have my permission to access the rest of the Keep, save for private royal chambers.”

“Of course.”

As Manasaber completed the rune, she stood up, brushing rather violently the material left on her hand away using her clothing. She closed the bag and returned it to her belt, stepping back to enjoy her work. The rune was hardly visible, but they could tell it was there because they saw it drawn. 

“All it takes for the rune to work is for someone to walk onto it.” Manasaber said. 

Maliphos took initiative, stepping forward onto the rune, waiting a few seconds. The rune didn’t seem to do anything, but the material wasn’t shifted or smudged when the hunter stood upon it. Maliphos walked across it once before returning to Manasaber’s side. 

Wrathion, curious, motioned from Right and Left to appear at his side. “Walk across the rune.” 

“Of course.” Right nodded.

The room watched as Wrathion’s bodyguards, one following the other, stepped across the rune. Again, they were unable to move the material, but again, the rune did nothing. The two returned to Wrathion’s side.

“How do we know this rune works?” Greymane asked, pulling the thought from everyone’s minds.

“We’ll see.” Wrathion spoke up before Maliphos or Manasaber could. 

The black dragon walked across the room, stepping onto the rune, and then standing upon it. A slight shiver went down his spin, but he felt nothing for a good few seconds. He tapped his foot, glancing around at the others within the room, before suddenly he felt his being transformed. In a puff of smoke, clearing quickly, a black whelpling hovered above the rune, his wings flapping up and down in a hurried manner. 

“It appears to be working.” Anduin smiled. 

“I noticed a small delay.” Varian looked from Wrathion to Manasaber. “Can this be adjusted?”

“Certainly! If I could request Wrathion’s aid in testing, I could fix this issue by today’s end.” Manasaber nodded. 

Wrathion turned, the small whelp’s red glowing eyes looking into the mage. “You have my help, mage. I had plans but Stormwind’s safety is a more important concern.” 

“Thank you, Black Prince.” Manasaber bowed, and Wrathion flew off the rune, back to where his guards stood, before returning to his humanoid appearance. 

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Maliphos.” Varian spoke up, “Manasaber.”

“It is our duty, We could not have left this unknown to you.” Maliphos bowed slightly. 

“Should your efforts be fruitful, please know that you will be rewarded. Stormwind is grateful for heros like you.” 

Anduin felt himself worry over his kingdom, as well as curious over who this dragon is and why they were here. He hoped that they had no ill intention, he understood why a dragon of the black flight may want to hide, especially when Wrathion makes it known how he feels about his own kind. But Anduin knew better. 

There was something off about the rune, though. It appeared to work, even with it’s delay, but since it’s creation upon the throne room flooring, it felt ...like it called to him. Something felt like it wanted him to investigate it, test it out himself, though it was likely his own morbid curiosity. As his father continued to talk with Greymane and the hunter and mage, Anduin began to walk closer to the rune, just slightly getting a site of the dusty drawing. Wrathion too was speaking to his guards, and in the moment Anduin stepped upon the rune, all eyes were off him. 

A shiver went up his spine, but for the most part his curiosity seemed satisfied. He stood there, paused in thought, not sure what else to do now. He watched his father whisper something to Greymane. 

And then pain. 

A scream erupted throughout the keep,echoing shear pain and agony. 

Anduin dropped down to his knees, his hands grabbing at his sides, his head dropped down as he screamed out. The rune glowed, violently red, as it reacts negatively with Anduin’s body

“Anduin!” Both Wrathion and Varian cried out at the same time, fear showing on their faces.

“What’s it doing to him!?” Greymane growled, barking at Manasaber.

“I, I, uh-” Manasaber looked afraid, glancing at Maliphos for aid, but Maliphos too was seeking her out for answers. “I don’t know!”

Something within Anduin’s anatomy rejected whatever spell the rune was trying to cast on him. His humanity did not react well with the spell, fighting against the rune, staining Anduin’s nerves and sending waves of pain throughout his body. Despite his body’s fight it eventually lost to it’s own inner dragon.

A poof of smoke filled the room, lingering longer than before, and causing those within the room to begin coughing while it dispersed. The King stood from his throne, ready to drag his son from the grasp of the runes, the guards in the room ready to arrest the hunter and mage should it appear harm had been done. 

The room cleared and the prince was nowhere in sight. 

In his place, instead, an onyxian whelpling. 

For a short second, a moment in time, there was nothing but silence as they stared, wide-eyed, at the whelpling on the floor, cowarring in pain, it itself not yet noticing it’s situation. But in that moment, that very short second, the reality of there being an onyxian whelp upon the throne room floor set in. For the hunter and mage, it was their shock that their plan had already worked. For the king, however, the realization that not only was his son not his son, but his son had been a whelpling of Onyxia’s brood, for an unknown amount of time. Anger surged his system, his hand gripping his sword tightly as he pulled it from it’s place at his side. 

“CAPTURE IT!” The King’s voice boomed, and the moment of pause ended. 

Wrathion growled, sending a look to Left. Left nodded, understanding, and she and Right bolted towards the whelp. The whelp shrieked, jumping up at the sound of Varian’s voice. It shook in place, glancing around the room with wide, shiny, red eyes, like a frightened puppy. It attempted to scoot backwards as it saw the two blacktalon approaching, but gave little to no fight in it’s escape. The two caught the whelp easily, Left pinning the whelp down as Right placed a metal device around its neck. The two then stood back up, Left picking the shaking whelp up and holding it, gripping it tightly to her chest. 

The whelp squealed and struggled against Left, crying out, before quieting down as Varian and Wrathion approached. It watched, fear in its eyes, as the king glared back with nothing but hatred. The whelp tried to shrink back into Left’s grip, to hide away from the king, but was stopped when the king grabbed the Whelp from Left, holding it out by the scruff of it’s neck. 

“The throne room has been shut down, your majesty.” A guard spoke. “All doorways have been locked.”

“Bold.” Varian growled at the whelp. “You decide to out yourself as soon as someone catches onto you. How come?”

The whelpling appeared to be trying to speak, but all that came out were cries, akin to that of an animal in pain. Wrathion felt his own anger, wanting to harm the whelp for deceiving him. How dare it act stupid?! How dare it cower in fear now?! The whelp could’ve had any other disguise and it’s intentions may have still been of question, but the whelp had hidden boldly behind a face it shouldn’t have. Which lead to one question screaming within his mind. 

“WHERE IS ANDUIN!” Wrathion barked, finding himself approaching both the king and the whelp he held. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH HIM!?”

The whelp let out a pitiful cry, louder than his others, as a reply. 

“Speak, whelp!” Varian growled. 

The whelp continue to cry out, but whatever it was trying to say, it was not understood. 

“It doesn’t seem to know common.” Right frowned.

“It should know draconic, then, but it won’t say anything.” Wrathion glared. 

“All it does is cry like a feral animal.” Left grunted. 

“Maybe it is feral.” Genn growled. 

“It’s not feral, it’s stolen my son from me and took his place, it’s acting and it will face the price for it’s actions!” Varian said, his arms shaking in anger. 

The king growled, holding back his rage as it boiled under his skin, the sword in his other grip looking rather too clean. But his urges were not how he should continue the situation, he knew better. Killing the whelp now would hinder their ability to find Anduin, should Anduin still be alive at all. The thought he wasn’t made holding the beast unbearable. The king threw the whelp to the floor, the whelpling screeching out in pain as it collided with the hard, cold, marble flooring. The metal device around its neck rang against the flooring, only adding to the whelp’s discomfort. 

“Take it to the interrogation cell below the keep and don’t let it out of your sight!” Varian shouted at the guards. “I’ll be down shortly after I speak with our heros.”

“Yes sire!” The guards responded before turning towards the whelp.

Wrathion watched as Left and Right grabbed the whelp, deciding themselves to be the ones to walk the whelp down with the guards. Wrathion following suit, Varian left in a dark mood, speaking with Maliphos and Manasaber. 

“You will be paid your reward, though I want you to stay around in case I am in need of your skills.” 

“As you command, King Wrynn.” The hunter and mage bowed before their king.

-...-

Anduin had absolutely no fucking clue what the hell was going on, and it scared him to death. One moment he was fine, and then there was pain, and then everyone seemed to want him dead. It took him far too long in the throne room to realize he wasn’t human anymore, and that god-forsaken rune had turned him into a dragon whelp. All attempts to talk, to cry out that he wasn’t a dragon, and that he was the prince, fell on deaf ears. 

What hurt him most of all wasn’t what the rune did, nor the possibility that this had been a trick plotted by the hunter and mage, nor that the threat of an onyxian dragon still was possible. It wasn’t seeing his father shake in rage, shake him in rage, yell at him with his dark, deep, rage-filled king voice, nor was it the painful grip on his neck or the threatening shine of Shalamayne. 

What hurt him most of all was his father throwing him down upon the floor. 

It reminded him of the time his father had grabbed him, hurt his arm, but only reminded. This time was thousands of times worse. This time there was no instant realization of what he’d done, and WHO he’d done it too. There was no plea for forgiveness. Varian had n o idea how he abused his son, and that was what hurt most of all. 

In a strange way, now that Anduin sat, as an onyxian whelp, in a dark, moldy, cold cell, he understood it. He understood and felt his father’s rage and reasoning. He’d been left here, not alone, but left here for an unknown amount of time. Maybe only a minute, maybe an hour, or hours, but whatever the time had passed, Anduin had enough time to begin to process the situation that had just passed. 

His father had seen his only son turn out to be a whelpling of kin to Onyxia, a demon of a dragon who’d killed his wife, near destroyed his relationship with his people, and his son. He’d thought her damage to be done when he’d killed her, but no, now, before him, boldly presenting itself on a platter, was one of, if not her only surviving whelpling. And his son gone, missing, for an unknown period of time, assuming he’d not been a whelp this entire time. 

Anduin understood the reaction his father had, but still, it hurt. 

Anduin tried to plead with them in the throne room, and tried to plead with the guards, but all that came out were animalistic cries. So, after awhile of getting nothing but glares, he’d stopped trying. He’d shrunk back down into the corner of the cell, shaking in his own frightened mind, crying silently, begging for this all to be a dream. A horrible nightmare.

He tried to call for the light, to seek it’s guidance, as surely the light could see the truth, but no matter how hard he tried, he felt nothing in return. 

The whelp had lingered on the edge of sleep when the door to the room slammed open, and a few sets of footsteps could be heard. The whelp felt himself jump to the sound, dreading who it could be, not wanting to face this nightmare anymore. But as he heard them speak, he couldn’t help himself try again. 

“This is the whelp, huh?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Anduin slowly peaked out, meeting the narrowed eyes of Mathias Shaw and Jaina Proudmoore. There was nothing but coldness in their stare, Shaw leaning against the back wall and Jaina approaching the cell bars, but not standing too close. 

“Where is he?” Jaina began, searching the whelpling as if she could read him for answers. “Where is my nephew?” 

Anduin pulled himself from his corner, raising his head up slightly, and cried out “I’m right here! It’s me, Jaina!!”, but his mind could not convey the words properly to his mouth, apparently, and all that he heard from it were cries. 

Jaina frowned, glancing back to Shaw, who only nodded to her in reply. The woman sighed, raising her hand slightly, a blue glow appearing from her fingers. 

“Explain yourself now.” She commanded.

Anduin paused, unsure of what she was doing, or casting, and why. But still, he’d continue to try until he had no voice left. 

“I don’t know what’s going on, I swear I’m really-” Anduin started his cries again, but realized that this time he was understood. He stopped himself in surprise. His voice was...slightly off in this whelp form. A translation spell of some kind, thats what she was casting, but what it was doing to him and how he wasn’t sure. Not that it mattered the details of this. 

“You don’t know?” Jaina growled.

“Jaina, I swear on my life it’s me!” Anduin pleaded, his body standing just a little more up, just a little more confident. “I stood on the rune and it turned me into a dragon and now everyone wants me dead, but I’m me! I’m Anduin!! And I’m scared, I don’t know what to do! Please, Jaina, help me!”

Jaina looked troubled for a moment, as she thought through what he said. Possibly, for a second, she believed him, but her scowl returned too quick. 

“Jaina, please!” Anduin pleaded. 

“NO!” Jaina shook her head. “A rune can’t just, just do this! If you were only human, you would’ve returned to normal as soon as you stepped off. You cannot fool me.” 

“Jaina please!”

Jaina let the spell fade out between her fingers as she stepped forward to grip the bars. Anduin saw too that her arms shook. Anduin backed off, his body lowering to the cold flooring, his head dipping down to match. 

“If Onyxia thought she could continue to haunt this family even in her death, she is wrong!” Jaina shouted. “As soon as we find Anduin we will hang your head above the throne just like your mother!” 

Anduin cried out again, for jaina, but she showed no sign of understanding him. As Anduin looked towards Shaw, and tried to cry out for him, the spy made no sign he’d even heard the whelp. Jaina backed off, turning to whisper something to Shaw, before the two walked out of the room, leaving Anduin alone with the guards again. 

Anduin coward back into his corner, but this time his heart was too broken to find comfort in sleep, his mind too much of a confused and afraid mess to calm down. He’d have to prove himself if he were to gain their help, but how?

No, Anduin needed to find a way to escape, because there was little to no chance they would believe him and let him go. No, they would keep him here until they found their missing prince, and because they would never find him, it was likely one day he’d be killed anyway in a fit of rage, probably by his own father. 

He needed to do something soon before his head was at the end of Shalamayne’s mercy. 

-...-

“I can promise you, King Wrynn, that I had no knowledge of the dragon standing beside me.” 

“Do you have any idea how outrageous that sounds!? That you DIDN’T know the prince was really a fellow black dragon in disguise?!”

Wrathion stood, claws dragging at the wood of the war table they stood around. Varian walked back and forth across from him, Greymane, Proudmoore, and Shaw to their sides. Left and Right stood back, watching their boss defend himself. 

“I know this sounds crazy but dragons can and have been able to fool each other. It’s not out of the realm of possibility!” Wrathion glared. “I know I like to act like it, know too that I will only admit this once, but I really don’t know everything about everyone around me!”

“It sounds crazy because it is.” Greymane growled, he too unsure of Wrathion’s credibility. He’d never been too much of a fan of his. 

“How do I know that this wasn’t all some grand plot against me and my city?!” Varian slammed his hands against the war table, rattling everything on it. “That you and that whelp have been deceiving me this entire time! How do I know that my son has never really been my son!?”

“Unless the whelp is plotting against me as well, I know that Anduin has been Anduin for as long as I’ve known him! It’s possible that this whelp has only inserted himself into the keep only recently. At this point I’m so used to Anduin just being here that I wouldn’t have noticed at all! And I didn’t!”

“But it’s possible you’re wrong! You admitted it yourself.” Varian fought back. “For all I know, you killed my son back in Pandaria and replaced him with that whelp. You’ve been playing the long game this entire time.”

“King Wrynn, your paranoia is showing.” Wrathion scrapped at the table with his claws more. 

“Understandably, I think it’s called for, whelp!”

“You have no idea how much that stupid human child has meant to me, it is an insult to my life to claim that I am the one behind his dissappearance!” 

Varian in near seconds had Wrathion by his collar, Proudmoore standing from her seat, Left and Right at their stations in seconds, weapons in hand, though holding back. 

“If my son means so much to you then you will find him.” Varian hissed, staring the dragon down his glowing red orbs. “Should you fail in finding him, Black Prince, you won’t live long enough to regret it.”

The two held each others glares, neither backing down, until the heat of their anger and arguing had gone, and the room cold. 

“You have my word.” Wrathion then spoke.

Varian dropped Wrathion, then marched back over to the other side of the war table. 

“Shaw, this is the only thing I want you working on until my son is found.” Varian spoke. 

“Your Majesty, there have been a number of reports about Defias entering Elwynn. Do you wish for me to pass those down as well?” Shaw asked. 

“Yes. Anything that doesn’t concern my son is not your priority!” Varian answered, and Shaw nodded in understanding. 

“Jaina, Genn, I will need your help as well.” 

“The draenei hunter spoke about sensing the presence of a dragon, it is likely I have some among my ranks who can work with her, as well as Shaw. I will do all within my power.”

“I have a few ideas,” Jaina began, “But I was already down there for a minute.” 

“We saw the whelp before we came here.” Shaw stated. 

“And?” Varian asked.

“His cries are certainly him trying to speak, but I could only understand him via a translation spell.” Jaina said. “It’s a spell normally used on wildlife, or the mute. It translates thoughts into spoken common.”

“What did he say?” Genn asked. 

Jaina hesitated, “He continues to claim to be the prince, but none of his explanations make sense. It’s clear to me he is sticking to a plan so obviously transparent. It’s probably all he has left in defense.”

“I noticed a metal collar on his neck.” Shaw added, “What is that?”

“It blocks the user from casting magic.” Wrathion explained. “You won't have to worry about him turning back to human form, or throwing fireballs, or making use upon the void’s corruption. He cannot connect to anything, not even the light if he prayed hard enough. He has no power.”

“Good.” Varian said. “I was worried that having him down in the cell would not be enough. I want to relocate him to the Stockade anyway.”

A hurried knock at the meeting room door gained their attention, and Varian called for the outsider to enter. The door opened quickly, and a guard rushed in. 

“My King, we’ve caught the whelpling attempting to escape.” The guard said, “We’ve stopped him for now, but don’t believe our cells are enough.”

“Prepare a cage for transport.” Varian replied. “I will see to it personally that he makes it to the lowest level of the Stockades.”

-...-

The cage was nothing but a forest of bars, placed upon a wooden cargo transport carriage, lead by horses, surrounded by guardsmen, Lady Proudmoore, and King Wrynn. It was big enough for a drake, but Anduin himself was just a bit too big to squeeze past the bars. He’d tried, and with his usual confidence and determination, would probably still be trying, but now he was atop a bumpy carriage, being watched carefully by his aunt and father, and being yelled and screamed at by the entire citizen population. 

Word had spread fast of the discovery of a whelp hidden within the keep, and the disappearance of the beloved prince, and to say the citizens of Stormwind were pissed was an understatement. They were f u c k i n g p i s s e d. They screamed and yelled horrible things at him, and because it seemed to be their tradition, threw rocks and bricks and rotten fruit at him. Varian himself had long ago banned the throwing of objects at protests and riots, punishable with time in the stocade, but for some fucking reason the king was ignoring their actions at this moment. 

It made sense, his hatred for black dragons, Onyxian specifically, ran too deep. If anyone deserved to get shit thrown at them, it was Onyxia and anyone of her bloodline. Both Varian and his people alike hated him and the very fact he existed, let alone the appearance that he wasn’t the prince. 

So, Anduin was out of his mind, terrified, to say the least. And the light still did not answer his pleas. 

A couple of fruit had hit the cage bars and splattered, getting fruit all over him and the cell, but he’d thank the light later that the bars had kept the rocks and bricks and bigger objects from hurting him. Though the cage was almost a constant rattle, a larger, louder rattle shook him and the cage, and echoed within his head, causing him to feel a bit dizzy.

As he regained a bit of his senses, he turned to look at where the cage had been hit, and to his surprise, there was a slight dent in the bars. A dent that no one had noticed. Not yet. 

He knew he had to, he knew it was his only chance, as the entrance to the Stockades drew closer. Fear rattled him, kept his feet locked to the floor, he screamed at himself to stay, that this was too much of a risk. He was in front of e v e r y o n e. He would be caught in an instant, and there were too many that’d he couldn’t risk trying to kill him before the king ever got to him.

But he had to. 

The whelp darked to towards the bar, squeezing his head through the dent in the bars, the bars painfully tight, but there was no going back. He ignored the gasps and screams of his escaping, nor the roar of guards, or possibly his father. He closed his eyes, squeezed through, and jumped from the carriage. 

A moment of falling caused him to realize his mistake, and he let his wings spread out and flutter quickly, to escape being anywhere within reach of anyone on the ground. His flying was not smooth, he’d never flown before, was surprised he had remembered to fly before it was too late. Still, he only reopened his eyes once he was sure he’d flown really high up. 

Opening his eyes was n o t a good idea. He stared down at the entire city, watching as panic took over, and heard the distant commanding shouts from his father. He then heard caws, and gasped when he realized that griffon riders were heading straight for him. He had to leave now. 

Anduin took off in any direction he didn’t see a griffon rider. His only option was a close call, darting between two riders, as he made it out of the city and into Elwynn. He flew as fast as he could, his body and wings quickly growing tired. He’d never flown before, so obviously his body was not used to this. As the shouting and cries of griffons got more and more distant, he turned and nosedived downard, into the canopy of the dense forest.

He hit the forest floor with a thud, gasping out in pain, but in his weakened state, he just laid there. Again, a voice in his head fought against his determination. It’d be so easy to just lay there forever, until they found him, and locked him back up again. Accept the coolness of the grass as it lasted, doomed to be replaced by cold, wet, moldy cell concrete. But no, he couldn’t give in. He’d made it this far. 

Anduin forced himself up, looking around at his surroundings. Though he’d probably get pretty far continuing to run, his head was not in the right place, and his heart ached to be forced to run from home. The only idea he could come up with was to hide, and not too far he could see a tree with a rather large whole in its side. Hollowed out, it was the perfect hiding spot he could find from his view point. 

His whelpling wings carried him over, and he clawed himself into the tree, finding a rather decent amount of room inside, with nesting at the bottom of it. The nest appeared empty, and so Anduin balled himself up, getting as small as possible, hoping the darkness of the tree hid him well from outside sight. 

His heart beat went far too quickly for his liking, and it felt far too loud in his ears. The metal collar rubbed up uncomfortably against his neck, but there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t sleep, he was too awake for that. He tried to pray for the light again, tried to plead with it, hoping it was listening, but yet again he gained no response. 

Suddenly, Anduin heard a noise approaching, and his heartbeat quickened as he tried to further hide himself. His hiding didn’t do anything, as something landed at the entrance of the hollow tree, and with a forceful screech, it flapped its wings and clawed at him. Though Anduin was too panicked to tell, an Owl had landed back to it’s nest, and was not happy to find that a dragon whelpling had stolen it. Anduin shuffled around, attempting to escape, but the owl was blocking his only escape. With no other option, the whelpling fluttered it’s own wings, shoving itself at the bird, overpowering it easily and knocking it out of the entrance. With the bird out of the way, Anduin leaped out of the nest, flying away from the tree and far far away from the angry owl. 

“Got you!” 

He’d not flown high enough, nor fast enough, to escape a crushing, claw-like grasp around his throat. His wings flapped violently, but there was no overpowering whoever had caught him. 

Anduin opened his eyes, the blur created by commotion and fear fading when he focused in on the fact that it was Wrathion, in humanoid form, grasping him. 

The red eyes sent shivers down his spine, made his blood run cold, and his heart skip. 

“WHERE IS ANDUIN WRYNN!?” Wrathion demanded, his voice nothing like his usual calming tone. This carried much more depth, much more weight, and sounded much more like the son of Deathwing. 

Wrathion’s grip tightened as Anduin cried out. 

“I have killed all others of my kind, do not think yourself free from that fate!” 

Wrathion’s claws grew a fiery red, and the grip burned. The metal collar, which his grip was also on, began to react to the heat Wrathion radiated, and slowly began to glow. The searing heat began to burn Anduin’s neck, the scales only providing a thin barrier against it. As Wrathion’s anger grew, so did the burning agony. Anduin’s pleas turned to screeching. 

Something snatched him from Wrathion’s grip, his claws dragging across him as he was pulled away. He and Wrathion turned, looking up only to find that King Wrynn gripped him now. 

Though the collar was left to cool off, somehow the heat from his father’s scarred face burned hotter than anything Wrathion could ever dream of conjuring.

-...-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave behind feedback, comments, thoughts, as they are the best motivation a writer could receive. Thank you! <3


	3. Felt Like This

-...-

“I pray you both find something quickly,” Wrathion sighed, “But I know better.”

“We will do whatever we can to find him.” Right placed her hand on his shoulder, meeting Wrathion’s gaze. “Not just because it is our jobs. In the time Left and I have known the prince he has grown on us.”

“My life is on the line, Right.” Wrathion looked away, to Left. Left, who usually wore her stern face well, was even giving him a look of pity. “He will be found, there is no other alternative.”

Right nodded her head, stepping back. 

“I need a moment to myself, but I will start my own investigation soon.” Wrathion sat down in the desk chair, turning to lean on the desk. “Report back as soon as you find anything. Anything. I don’t care how outrageous the lead sounds, I want to hear all of them.”

“As you command, my prince.” Left and Right gathered their own weapons and supplies before heading towards the door. 

“Good luck.” Wrathion said before the two left, closing the door behind them. 

Wrathion was left in the dark keep bedroom, alone. On the desk, a candle dimly flickered, being the only light in the room. He held his chin in his hands, staring at the wall, mind deep within his thoughts. 

Right and Left, like Anduin, meant too much to Wrathion. The two were his bodyguards, that was and would always be true, but within the last year the prince had seen them in a different light. It was times like this, where Wrathion’s worries escaped his head, that the two would show him a kindness beyond what he paid them for. They’d been mother figures for him at times, and while he’d never openly acknowledged it, he was more than grateful for that. 

Wrathion growled, the hand holding his head slightly wobbling. He was more than just an overflowing pot of worry. He felt anger, a lot towards the whelpling, but mostly towards himself. It utterly baffled him that he’d not detected the existence of the whelp at all. Sure, dragons could deceive each other, but Wrathion was skilled in finding people, and dragons often could at least tell when they weren’t alone. There really wasn’t any excuse why Wrathion wasn’t able to stop the whelp. 

And then, what worried him more, and made him hate himself more, was the question still of how long Anduin, the real Anduin, had been replaced. How long did the whelpling walk around in disguise? How long has Anduin been kidnapped, stolen from his home, and where? Wrathion wanted to believe that at most it’d been hours, maybe a few days, but Varian had brought up the possibility that Anduin has been gone since Wrathion had met him back in Pandaria. To think Wrathion never knew the real Anduin. That this entire relationship was nothing. He’d hoped to find evidence that his worst fears were unfounded. 

Wrathion turned in his chair, staring at the mess of objects scattered on the bed. His maps and backpack and all the items he had put together in his grand plot of a birthday present. He remembered how excited he was to put his plan in action, and how he couldn’t wait to see Anduin’s reaction. Now, honestly, none of it mattered to him. 

The Black Prince stood from his chair, smothering the dim candle before heading out of the room. He would begin his investigation at the only lead he had, which was the whelpling. 

The current time was something in the AM, dead of night. Despite the cool darkness of the night, the city was still very much on it’s feet, wide awake. An onyxian whelpling was caged under their feet, and their beloved prince had vanished out of thin air, and despite many many hours of searching, there had been no real leads. Shaw had yet to come up with anything, Varian had locked himself away within his office, and it seemed there were ten times as many guards patrolling the streets. 

Wrathion had no problem entering the stockades, the King giving him access to anything he needed to conduct his search for the prince. The man’s head was on the line, Varian wasn’t a dick enough to hold him back from places that might just save his hide. The guards shuffled uncomfortably in his presence, and the prisoners shouted at him, but none of it got to Wrathion. 

“Oi! Dragonshit! Get the fuck outta here!” He flinched as the prisoners enjoyed seeing the black dragon prince. 

“So ya be the prince’s friend I been hearing oll about?!” 

“Yeah, ain’t you hear he’s got them dirty royals on his finger?”

“I thought that was obvious!”

Wrathion growled, their words a bit too loud in his ears. Okay, normally shit like this wouldn’t bother him, but today just wasn’t his day, and his feelings were all out of whack. 

“Comin’ to see ya brother, ain’t ya?” Another shouted. “Bust me out too, would ya!”

“Nah, yall fuckers dumb, he’s clearly gonna beat the whelplin to a pulp.” Another snickered. “He’s been bangin the prince ever since they met.”

“I’d beat up whoever stole my sex doll too.”

A group of them burst out into laughter.

Wrathion sharply turned to the nearest cell, a group of three prisoners freezing, surprised that they got his attention. 

“Uh oh, Marty he’s gonna burn your house down. Anyone ever tell you not to fuck with the big bad wolf?” 

“Like I'm scared of a baby whelp.” 

“I think whelp means baby.” 

“Like you know anything about dragons.”

“Shut up!”

Wrathion felt anger in his throat, words wanting to spill from his mouth, but he swallowed them, and turned to continue walking down the levels of the Stockade. Every step he took, the louder their voices seemed to feel. How did the guards do this? It was obvious to him that the prisoners were only picking on him because they’d never actually seen him before. Wrathion was sure they bullied the guards all the damn time. And, lord, he wondered what shit they yelled at the king when he made his way down here. Or did they finally shut the fuck up with Varian around? 

“Is that...Is that one of those black dragons?”

“Yeah, yeah, met him in Pandaria.” A sigh. “Full of himself, but I liked him.”

A quick glance, Wrathion saw an old alliance traveler he knew back at the tavern, whom used to do stupid quests for him. Wrathion had long forgotten their name, but he remembered their face. He wondered, briefly, what they had done to end up in Stormwind’s prison, but that was a question to be answered another day. 

“Look, Ike, it’s a twink.”

“He looks rich too, look at all that red.”

“My mother used to wear a bunch of red all the time. Now I can’t stand it.”

Another set of cells, and another set of shouts and cat calling and dumb shit dumb mortals say. 

“Ey! What you do with the fucking prince!? I’ll ring your fucking neck as soon as I get out of here!” A prisoner tried reaching out for him from the bars, but there was no way he’d ever be able to grab onto Wrathion. 

“You’re not getting out of here!” 

“Try me!” The cellmate yelled back. “My sentence runs out in five months!”

“You said that six months ago, Dingus!”

“And it’s true!”

Wrathion continued, glancing around at the men and women and human and elves and mortals that yelled and bickered. On one of the lowest levels, as the cells thinned out, and less people sat in their prisons, the worst some of it seemed to get. Threats of all kinds, though there were also many who just sat quietly watching him. 

“Another Prestor, huh?” 

A woman, in red, with a red bandana over her face, sat in the back of her cell. Her hair short and black, her eyes dangerous. 

“Excuse me?” Wrathion growled. He was NOT a Prestor. He loathed the name and refused to use it. 

“Yeah!” Another man, from the other side of the hallway, yelled out. “It’s like ya’ll are drawn to these streets.”

The woman grinned. “More like the sheets of a Wrynn’s bedroom.”

The other man laughed. “Lady Prestor was the first but she certainly wasn’t the last, huh?”

Wrathion stopped to glare at her, and she too held the glare. She was challenging him, unafraid of his temper, like many of the other prisoners seemed to be once they got a reaction. And now that he took a longer look at her, there was something familiar about her. 

“A corrupt royal family used by a corrupt dragonflight. I’m not surprised you’re back for more, honestly.” The woman said. “Had I the power to make a king do whatever I wanted, I wouldn’t be able to resist that urge. Though, I’d use that power for other means…”

“And what means are you seeking?” Wrathion let his curiosity go. 

“Westfall deserved better. Vengeance is coming, dragon, you better hope the anger of starving people isn’t enough to burn a city to the ground with her crown still in it.”

Wrathion growled, his eyes glowing a little bit brighter. She was a threat, her words an omen for a war on another front. But a war that was not showing itself yet in anything other than words. 

“Too bad you are here, locked up in a cell, spouting nothing but words to lunatics.” Wrathion spat.

“You underestimate the power of a group of lunatics hellbent on justice, Prestor.”

“You underestimate me, Vancleef.”

The two held each others glare for an uncomfortable amount of time, before the woman broke away, yawning. 

“I believe there was something else that brought you down here, wasn’t there?” She said.

Wrathion turned away, and continued walking without giving a reply. 

When Wrathion reached the very bottom of the bottom, a lone cell was all that was left. There were no bars, the walls thick concrete, a lone metal door with bars all that kept him from the whelp inside. As he approached, he heard talking, and quietly made his way close to the bar door, looking inside. Inside, he saw a tired, exhausted Jaina Proudmoore, casting her translation spell, speaking with the whelpling. 

“Give. It. Up!” Jaina barked.

“I am not lying, Aunt Jaina!” A voice, similar to Anduin’s, but the pitch off. 

“You are!”

“Jaina, I promise you it is me! I’m terrified, I don’t know what's going on, but I need your help to prove what I’m saying is true! Please, give me a chance!”

“No!” Jaina shook her head. “A chance is what got Tiffin killed.”

“And it’ll get ME killed if no one listens!” the whelp barked. “You’ll never find me because you refuse to even entertain the idea I could be telling the truth!”

“Anduin is the son of humans, is biologically human, and you are of dragon kin. A human could not keep up this ...this…” She struggled to find words. 

“In a world without magic, maybe, but I’ve seen what illusions can do! You know what magic is capable of! Someone cast something on me and it’ll lead to my death. Jaina, Please!”

“STOP IT!” The woman broke. “STOP USING HIS VOICE. HIS WORDS. I CAN’T TAKE IT!”

“JAINA!”

The woman dropped the spell, the common spilling from the whelp turning to cries. Jaina shook, picking up her staff from against the wall, and turning to leave the cell. Wrathion stood back as the mage walked through, turning to close and lock the door. She let out a deep, sorrowful sigh, and Wrathion could feel the pain within her heart like an echo in his chest. Jaina then turned, and paused for a second in confusion when she noticed Wrathion. 

She said nothing, but the look in her eyes, a plea for help. She hoped maybe that Wrathion would have better luck, or that maybe he could take away her fears, but she didn’t voice any of her wants. She just handed him the cell keys, then turned to leave the prison. 

Wrathion handled the keys, walking up the doorway and unlocking them, a loud series of metal hitting metal from within the lock echoing against the dark hallway. As he walked in, he didn’t take his eyes off the whelp, whom seemed to react by staring back and lowering its body. He locked the door behind him, setting the keys on his belt. The whelp was silent as Wrathion walked closer, but as he stopped halfway across the room, the whelp couldn’t help but let out a small cry. 

Wrathion frowned, curious as to what he’d hear, as he conjured up a similar smell from his claws. The whelp glanced between him and the glow from his claws, cowering back slightly, remembering the glow of heat from his grip from before. Wrathion noticed, slightly under the metal collar, that scorch marks could be seen. 

“Where is Anduin?” Wrathion asked, taking a deep breath before hand, knowing that starting his interrogation with yelling would not make this easy. 

The whelp paused. 

“Right here.”

Wrathion frowned. 

“Where is Anduin?” He asked again. 

“I AM Anduin!” The whelp raised its voice. 

Wrathion’s eye twitched. “If you think you’re funny, I can promise you tha-”

“Wrathion, I swear to the light I couldn’t make this up if I tried.” The whelp pleaded. “That rune, whatever it did to me, I’m stuck in this dragon body and I can’t do anything to escape it. Everyone thinks I’m some long lost child of Onyxia, and I get it, I would probably think the same if it wasn’t me that this happened to. But you have to listen to me! Please!”

“Alright, fine.” Wrathion sounded super annoyed, huffing. “Prove it.”

“Huh?”

“Prove to me that you are who you say you are. Prove to me that you are Anduin Wrynn.”

The whelp paused, a little stunned, though Wrathion wasn’t sure if it was because it didn’t think it’d get this far, or something more. 

“I...I don’t know how.” The whelp look flustered. “How can I if the only time I can even talk to people is when they want me to talk to them!? How can I when not even the light returns my calls?!”

“So you can’t prove to me you are Anduin Wrynn?”

“I-” The whelp shook it’s head. “Ask me something only I would know!”

Wrathion narrowed his eyes. “How can I if I don’t even know how long you’ve been pretending to be him?”

“Wrathion!”

“You CAN’T prove yourself to be Anduin.” Wrathion growled. 

“Wrathion, please, just give me time!” The whelp continued. “I’ll, I’ll figure something out. There must be something I can do!”

Wrathion felt the heat growing in his chest again, the anger pushing at his thoughts. This stupid whelpling was playing this game, even with him, and wasting his time in the long run. Every moment Anduin wasn’t found was a moment he could be dead, or dying, and he’d have no idea. 

“JUST TELL ME WHERE HE IS!” Wrathion yelled, his claws aching. “YOU’LL DIE WHETHER WE FIND HIM OR NOT!”

The whelp shrunk back against the wall, it’s voice silent. 

“I vowed to be the last of my kind and you can’t tell me anything that will change that.” Wrathion hissed, stepping closer to the whelp, step by step. 

Wrathion held himself back again, taking a deep breath, but his voice continued to raise in a threatening manner.

“If you tell me where he is, dead or alive, I’ll make your death quick and painless.” Wrathion almost pleaded. “If you don’t, I’ll leave the job up to a broken mortal man who has nothing else to lose in life.”

Varian would want nothing more than to see the being who stole his son away suffer in agony, in unspeakable torture, and Wrathion would only encourage the broken wolf to explore his darkest urges should the whelp continue to play with their heads. 

It seemed the stereotype that dragons were rather possessive of those they loved was truer then Wrathion believed. He felt like he was falling into a craze, an insanity that lingered on the levels of old god influence. How horrible that a tiny whelpling was able to fuck with his head this much. It was no wonder his entire flight had fallen to the whispers. 

Yelling, begging, the whelp was getting them nowhere. 

Wrathion approached the whelp, his shadow engulfing the smaller being. The whelp tried to speak, to cry out, but Wrathion wasn’t listening to him anymore. His claws shot out, grabbing the whelp by the metal collar. He lifted it up high off the floor, the whelp pawing at the metal collar ther not only pulled at his neck, but seemed to aid in choking him. His back claws reached up to scraped against Wrathion’s arm, but his sleeves were not thin enough to break through. 

“W-Wrath-th-” The whelp coughed, struggling against his grip. 

Wrathion bore into the whelp with his gaze, his eyes glowing hotter and brighter, his hand following suit, as with the metal collar. This time, when the metal burned into the whelp’s neck, it wasn’t by accident. 

There was one thing he and Anduin could never agree on, and that was that more often than not, violence t a l k e d. 

People scoffed at words, pleas and begging, all really empty tools in getting a message across. Pain, though, was a powerful, universal tool, understood by everyone. Wrathion would be daft to think continuing to ask the same question over and over was going to get them anywhere closer to saving his prince. 

People, mortal and immortal alike, feared pain and death, and actions that brought about them. 

The metal collar began to glow a bright orange, and both of them could hear the burning of the scales on the whelp’s neck. 

“W RAA- TH I-TH-A AA AA!” The whelp screeched, his voice heard even from the upper floors of the prison, causing prisoners to shift uncomfortably. Though dragons usually couldn’t shed tears in their non-humanoid form, the whelp’s eyes bled tears, dripping down the scales on his face to be evaporated from the heat of the claws and collar. A clue to the truth, though, this small detail was completely unnoticed. 

Wrathion could only take in the cries, watching, looking, as if all the answers would just come out. He was waiting for something, like the whelp’s pain would make his mind readable. As his claws tightened, and the burning continued, and the whelp’s cries weakened due to strain on his lungs, there was nothing Wrathion had hoped would happen. 

Violence, sometimes, talked. 

The whelp was not going to talk so easily, Wrathion would be a fool to think an onyxian dragon would be easy to break, and so he dropped him. He let the whelp whimper on the floor, it’s claws going from clawing at Wrathion’s hand to clawing at the still hot metal collar. He watched it cry and eventually give up on the collar, switching to curling up in a ball and shaking. 

The whelpling continue even as Wrathion’s footsteps grew distant. He flinched at the sound of the cell door being slammed shut, the noise rattling in his ears. In his pain, his exhaustion, the whelp tried to block everything out. His thoughts and fears and emotions and pain. 

There was only one way he could escape, and that was through sleep.

-...-

Trust. 

Anduin had always, always, trusted people. Everyone always told him that he trusted people, more times than not, too much. That he trusted himself too much, or that he trusted the Horde too much, or that he trusted Garrosh or Wrathion or even his own father too much. Anduin always ignored these comments, as his heart was gold, and if no one else would trust the untrusted, he would at least hear them out. 

With the Horde, it was easy. He had no idea why everyone seemed so racist all the time. They looked at a colorful picture and only saw black and white. Sure, pain and war was an understandable reason to have these beliefs, but it wasn’t an ok reason to keep them. The Horde time and time again proved to be just as human as anyone within the Alliance, and the Alliance wasn’t as clean in her record as everyone seemed to want to act like. 

Wrathion had been difficult to trust, and even then he twisted the definition of trust. Anduin, in the traditional sense of the word, never trusted Wrathion, and never really would. Wrathion always had outlandish ideas that put too many people in danger, and he was hardly ever open to Anduin’s concerns. He listened, but it always was followed by a lecture on why his concerns were wrong. Anduin didn’t trust Wrathion to not fuck up in some way or another. Anduin did trust Wrathion with his own life, though, for the most part. Wrathion over the years proved to be motivated and true to -most- of his words. Anduin trusted Wrathion about as far as he could throw him, which was an average distance for a human teen. Wasn’t far out there and wasn’t not out there at all. A healthy in between. 

Varian was complicated. Anduin Wrynn loved his father, possibly more than anyone else on the face of the planet. Varian fucked up a l o t, and though Anduin always forgave him, there was a difference between forgiving and forgetting. Varian wasn’t good with handling his own emotions, especially when interaction with other people, and the ‘wolf’ that slept within his heart had a violent reaction to things. Er, a better way to put this is that Anduin trusted his father with his life, and that was never not true. Who Anduin DIDN’T trust in this situation was the wolf.

Trust. 

Anduin didn’t trust anything or anyone at this moment. 

He trusted that those he loved would not kill HIM, but in their eyes, he was not him. 

His home was not his home, but his prison, and a field of landmines waiting to be stepped on, and every living soul was waiting to drag him to death row. 

Escaping the stockades was something he’d tried to do already, but there was a reason he’d been keen to escape b e f o r e he got here, and that was because Stormwind’s Stockades was one of the best prisons on the Eastern Kingdoms. Despite being smack dab in the middle of a city constantly in commotion, it’s security was unlike any other. 

Anduin’s cell, the lowest and darkest saved for the lowest and darkest, was disconnected from all the other prisoners, so gaining their aid was completely out of the question. 

There was nothing he could do but sleep, and sleep he did. 

-...-

When Anduin awoke, he was in the cell back under the Keep. He was confused, at first, as he looked down at himself and saw not whelpling claws and scales but...himself. He ran his hands across himself, afraid that his human body would disappear. A breath of fresh air seemed to fill his system as he jumped to his feet. 

“I- I need to find a way out of here.” Anduin gasped, running to the cell bars, searching the room. 

There were no guards, oddly enough, just grey walls and a strange mold in the corner of the room. 

“SOMEONE, PLEA-!” 

Anduin began to cry out, but just as he did, he realized he could hear someone coming, even though logically the door to the room shouldn’t have let him. An unorganized mutter of nonsense was all he heard, but as the voice grew closer, the walls to the room felt taller. As the door to the room burst open, and the voice recognized, everything seemed to grow ten times larger. 

No, he felt himself shrink back. 

The figure that entered the room was his father.’

Anduin felt himself shake in fear as he watched his father stumble over to the only chair in the room. His father was wearing thick cloth clothing, his hair an unbrushed mess, and his stubble darker than usual. His eyes wore heavy, as did his posture, and Anduin could smell a foul stench reeking from his words. In his father’s hands, a bottle, and Shalamayne. 

“Father, Father I-”

The older man dragged his eyes from space to stare into the boy, and Anduin saw nothing but a look of disgust. He felt himself back down, a sick feeling plaguing his guts. 

“You...you’ ve tak en e VE RY THIN G-” Varian shakily stood from his chair, dropping the bottle in his hands, it smashing to the floor, already empty. “-frOM ME!”

“FATHER!” Anduin yelled back. “IT’S ME!” He held out his human hands, shaking them as if it would shake his father back into reality. 

“YOU WON’T BEAT ME!” Varian yelled back, his now free hand grabbing at the bars, while his other gripped tightly onto Shalamayne. “NOT THIS TIME, WHELP!”

Anduin’s eyes widened, as he went from looking up to his father to back down at himself. He still saw a human form, but it appeared now that his father saw something different. His father still saw a whelpling.

“No, no this is all wrong!” Anduin shook his head, looking back up, “Father it’s me! Your son!”

“You’ve ta-taken my wife! And my s-s-son!” His father stuttered in his intoxication, and the bars almost seemed to disappear behind him. “T-there is nOTHING leFT FOR YOU HERE!”

Anduin fell back against the cold wall as his father approached, the sword in his hand screeching as it was dragged across the floor. As his father’s eyes glowed in the yellow of a wolf, Anduin saw his own reflection in the blade, and his eyes were nothing but red. 

“Anduin..n..” For a brief moment in this dream, his father’s anger had turned to sorrow, and he could see the man breaking down. “My s-son…”

“Yes, father, i’m right here!” Anduin pushed back against the wall gently. 

Varian shook his head, continuing. “He was alll...all I had. The only light in my life, in this world. He calmed the wolf inside...and...and without him….I-I can’t….I….”

The moment was swift and blurry and crushing. 

The blade shined against a light that was not there, and cut through his organs like soft butter. Anduin shook, his eyesight flickering, tears forming and dropping to the dirty floor. He slowly, and with hesitation, looked from his father to himself. Shalamayne’s blade was clean no more, as she had been buried within him. 

Anduin couldn’t really tell what he felt and didn’t feel, his posture stiffened in the moment, now relaxing against the cell walls. His hands traveled down the blade to himself, and a cold, thick, wet red stained his fingertips. His mouth ajar, small and quick breaths all that escaped. Through his blurry tears, he stared at the blood. 

Anduin curled into himself, the scene around him fading to black. The cell, gone, his father, gone, and though the sword inside him was gone, he still felt it. He still felt as though her sharp edges were resting within him, and that a large hole had been torn open. He didn’t feel pain, just that these existed. 

He felt an emptiness in his soul more than he felt pain. 

This was what true and utter complete hopelessness felt like. 

He was not going to survive this, was he? ‘

The silent breaths turned to soft crying as he was embraced by the darkness. 

“Shhh, Shh,” A voice formed from the black to calm his frightened soul. “Do not be scared.”

Anduin sunk back into the woman’s embrace, her arms wrapped around him, her voice soft and calming and beckoning. She sat there with him, leaning slightly over him, her long black hair falling from her shoulders to gently brush against him. She continued to whisper to him, her hand rubbing back and forth against him, as a mother would comfort her child. 

“All will be okay in the end.” Her voice soothed. “You are strong willed, i've no doubt.”

Anduin continued to sob, still terrified of the vision he’d just seen. 

“Anduin,” The woman ran her hand against his cheek, down to his chin, to softly pull his gaze up. His red eyes met with another’s. “I love you, Anduin.”

He couldn’t recognize the woman and didn't have to, for she radiated motherly energy. He’d spent far too long never knowing what it was like to be held by a mother, to be cared for, and supported. He dreamed far too long for this. 

Anduin closed his eyes and sunk back down, letting his arms wrap around her. He let her warmth keep him from the darkness’ cold, her gaze protect him from the unknown that surrounded them. As a strange feeling of peace and fuzziness flooded over him, he felt her hand brush through his hair, and stop to touch horns.

Anduin didn’t know what having a mother felt like, but he hoped that it felt like this.

-...-

“About fucking time!” Vanessa Vancleef growled, watching as the man struggled with the lock on her cell. “You’re late!”

“Forgive us, my lady!” The man dipped his head, then grinned as the lock clicked. “We were spotted entering Elywnn and couldn’t risk rushing this. I hope you understand.”

Vanessa stood from her seat, brushing off whatever dust had accumulated onto her lap. She pulled a small knife hidden away from under the cheap bedding she sat on, walking over to the cell door as the man opened it. 

“A change of plans, Vincent.” Vanessa patted him on the shoulder, then held out her hand. “Give me your potions.”

The man looked confused, but unhooked a potion from his belt, handing it to her. 

“Another.” She demanded, taking the one she had and hooking it to her belt.

“Another?” The man asked. “I need this one to-”

“Another!” Vaneesa hissed, and the man complied, unhooking another potion and handing it to her. 

“May I ask the change in plans, my lady?” He asked. 

“Of course,” She smiled, taking a look around the floor. “You have about two minutes to escape before they find out we’re here. I suggest you run now.”

“Without you?” The man frowned. 

“There is something I wish to see too before I leave. I’ve got the potions, I’ll be fine.” She smiled. “You best start running, Vinny.”

The man nodded before turning back to escape the prison, leaving his boss behind. The woman in red sighed, turning to walk farther into the prison instead of out of it. Her steps were not hurried, she was confident in her work, but her curiosity could not be contained. 

It was apparent they’d done a nice job in distracting the guards, as by the time she’d made it down to the lowest level of the prison, there was not a soul to be seen at their station. And, as a nice plus, keys had been left beside one of the bodies. 

Vancleef purred as she swung the keys, making her way over to the cell door, peeking inside. It was dark and difficult to see, but with a click of the lock, she opened the door to allow more light. Within the cell, back against the wall, curled into a sweet little ball, was the whelpling she’d seen and heard of before. It appeared sleeping, and she could understand why, she’d heard the screams it let out when that other dragon had visited. She could only wonder why, though….

“Hey you, get up.” She began, approaching it. They had very little time for this escape to work. 

The whelpling murmured in it’s sleep as she began to push against it. 

“Wake up!”

The whelp was not a deep sleeper as it seemed, which was good. The whelp’s eyes opened and blinked, and for a second Vaneesa saw disappointment in its face. But as it came to it’s senses, yawning as it turned to look up at her. 

“There’s little time to chat, dragon, but I know we have a common enemy.” She began, pulling out the invisibility potions. “Escape with me and you keep your head, hows that sound?”

The whelpling seemed to be in thought, taking just a little too long to react as she would have liked, but it stood up, looking from her to the potions. It was a clear sign to her that he’d accepted her offer. 

“Good.” She grinned, uncorking the potions and offering one to him as she slammed down the other. “I know someone who might be able to take a look at that collar of yours.”

She watched the whelp struggle to get the potion down, but it managed, and the potions went into effect just as yelling could be heard distantly. 

“Now, keep close,” Vanessa stood, and as she moved, the whelp followed, “our window is closing fast.”

-...-

The light flickered against the bottle on his desk, and seemed to dance wildly as he brushed all the paperwork to the side. Varian couldn’t focus on any of it anymore, reaching for the bottle to drown his aches. The report from Shaw in his hand, that had no leads, no information on his son, was crumbled and thrown to the floor. 

He leaned back in the chair, taking in as much of the foul liquid as he could. 

Why.

Why again?

What had he done to the gods above to deserve for this to happen again? And in such a short period of time compared to the last? His son’s adventures in Pandaria had only been a few years ago, which he supposed in Anduin’s lifetime was forever ago, but to his it was not. It was like his son was a moth drawn to a flame, the flame being the act of disappearing without a trace, and giving his father a heart attack. 

And the whelp. It made Varian ill to think he wasn’t actually done with Onyxia, that she hadn’t truly died so long ago. She had caused a large chunk of his life to feel empty and dark and as soon as his blade ran through her neck it felt like a new beginning. Like there was nothing in life he couldn’t face down. 

That was, speaking with his son by his side. The depression had forced itself back into him when the status of his son was unknown and the city feared that upon arrival to the pandaren continent, their sweet prince would be found as a corpse. 

Varian leaned against his desk, closing his eyes, wondering what Tiffin would have thought, or done. How would she have handled these situations? Varian craved the ability to seek her out, to ask her for help, for advice. When they had married, when he looked into her eyes and felt love, not dread, he looked forward to being able to be a family alongside her. They’d wanted a son, and a daughter, and to make their city proud. 

She was gone, for good, and now he sat alone, broken and afraid. 

Anduin was the only light in his life and Varian hurt to think about the possibility that that light had been snuffed out. 

There was a rushed knock on his office door, and after a few moments, the door opened, with or without Varian’s welcoming. 

“My King!” A guardsmen called, getting Varian to lean back off the desk. 

“Yes?” Varian asked, a tiredness seeping out of his voice. 

“The Defias have broken into the Stockades! They’ve escaped with Vancleef!”

Varian thought back to when Shaw remarked on the Defias activity back in Elywnn, and though still not as important to him as the location of his son, the Defias was not to be ignored.

“Ugh,” He grasped his growing headache, “Go after them, but if they reach Westfall just let them go, I don’t have the time to focus on her when my son is-”

“Vancleef freed the whelpling, my lord, she’s taken it with her!”

God- f u uuucking- damn it. 

-...-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every now and then I will update the tags so be sure to take a look. I've got like 10 pages of notes in Google Docs for this story, and i've been drawing some stuff based on those notes. RIP ME can't post any of it due to spoilers. ;n;
> 
> Anyway, thank you for your support! 
> 
> Please comment your thoughts, ideas, hopes, reaction, etc! Your comments are a writer's greatest motivation! <3


	4. Bias of Royalty

-...-

Vancleef was true to her word, and though it was difficult, the two made it out of Stormwind without being seen. She and Anduin met with a small rescue party, hiding in wait for her return within an old abandoned cottage beside a lake in Elwynn, a mile from the city. When they got there, all the Defias members, emotions masked by their signature red bandanas, gave him stares. 

“Hmm.” Vancleef frowned as one of the men handed her her daggers, as well as some other items. “It seems Vincent didn’t make it.”

“Should one of us stay behind?” A woman asked, slight concern in her voice. 

Vancleef shook her head. “The risk is too high. Not with our new friend.” 

Anduin noticed the disappointment in some of the members' body language. Whoever this Vincent person had been, they were close. But Anduin knew that staying within Elwynn would endanger them more than running, and he too did not want to be recaptured. Anduin, tiny in comparison to the humans, watched as they geared up to leave. Vancleef turned to him when she was done, a thick leather bag in hand. He watched her dump out some items, the other members going to grab what they could. 

“Look, we have horses about a mile down the river. They might get spooked seeing you.” She said, then leaned down, holding the bag open. “Get in.”

Anduin nodded, leaping into the bag. Vancleef carried the bag on her back before motioning for the group to head out. Anduin debated staying hidden completely within the bag but the woman made no attempt to stop him from peeking out. He watched as the cottage got farther and farther away, and as the team found their horses, Anduin ducked back down into the bag, not risking being seen. 

Being woken up from his dream was at first disappointing. Anduin couldn’t remember much of it at this point, but he remembered being held, and feeling comfort, and having Vanessa Vancleef be the first thing he saw waking up was not pleasant. Agreeing to follow her in escaping the prison was a no-brainer considering his situation, but still, the very idea that he was being saved from certain death by the woman who wanted his entire bloodline dead was...odd. 

The Defias, and Vancleef specifically, were never people Anduin had spent much time around, but had been told his entire life growing up that they were the bad guys. The Defias, since their creation, plotted against the throne. Anduin knew that this began from the rebuilding of Stormwind, the workers not receiving their pay, and he could admit that that was his family’s fault. However, the murder of the beloved queen was certainly not how Anduin believed the situation should have continued, and he didn’t think the Defias were really taking any moves towards a better future. Not for Stormwind and not for themselves. Everything they did since then just established them more as an enemy and not as an underdog, or whatever they wanted to be seen as.

Anduin believed that their actions were not completely justified, but his father never really let him in on dealing with the group, so he went about much of his life facing the other direction. That was how Anduin saw them.

He still to this moment had no idea how bias he was or not.

Entering Westfall, the group made careful attention to their direction, Anduin noticing them taking a long route around Sentinel Hill in order to head to MoonBrook without altering patrolling guards and adventurers to their existence. Though the land seemed too dry to properly farm, ravaged by wild boar and wolves and giant screeching birds, Sentinel Hill looked well populated from the distance. As they entered Moonbrook, the ghost town in appearance was nothing like it in action. People filled the houses and streets. 

“Lady Vancleef is home!” 

“We’ve missed you, my lady!”

Anduin climbed out of the bag slightly just as he heard cheers and huzzahs to Vancleef’s arrival. It seemed that many of the citizens of Moonbrook were so excited for the safety of Vancleef that they hadn’t even acknowledged the onyxian whelpling on her shoulders. 

Though Vancleef and the inhabitants of Moonbrook showed him so far a warm welcoming, Anduin couldn’t help but feel out of place. He didn’t belong here, nor did he deserve their kindness. What would they do if they knew who they had in their town? The thought made the whelpling sink back into the bag and await for further attention from Vancleef herself. 

They’d entered one of the old wooden buildings, Anduin sure of it due to the sound of the wood creaking as they walked. The rescue group dispersed not long after, Vancleef making it up a set of stairs with just one set of footsteps behind her. They reached the second story of the building, a door opening but not closing as they stepped in. Then, Anduin felt the bag move and Vancleef drop him out onto a stiff bed. 

“This is the only room we have to offer at the moment.” Vancleef spoke, setting the bag to the side as the whelp took a look around. “It may take a moment or two for the people to get used to the presence of a dragon, small or not.”

Anduin first saw that they were not alone, and that the footsteps that had followed them was not of one of the rescue team, but of a little girl. She looked no younger than 9 years old and her hair was curly and brown. She stared back at him too, leading Anduin to look away to take in the room. The room looked big to himself, but knew that it was not. There were two small child-sized beds, with a rotting desk in the corner, and a lantern on a small dresser. 

“Yulia, go get soup for our guest,” Vancleef turned to the child. “Please.”

The girl looked up at Vancleef with a smile and nodded, running off faster then Anduin expected her too. 

“So!” Vancleef turned to Anduin. “Might as well get your name before we get any farther.”

Anduin froze for a second, wanting to reply, and then realizing that telling them that his name was Anduin was probably not a good idea. Oh, and there was also the matter with the collar, which prevented Anduin from doing a lot of things. He had no idea if it too limited his speech, but it was possible. Instead of making a noise, he tried to motion towards the collar around his neck. 

“Oh, hm.” Vancleef frowned, taking a closer look at it. “Give me a second, I will need to find someone for this.” 

Anduin watched as Vancleef turned to leave the room. 

“Stay here.” She ordered. “I will return as soon as possible.”

Anduin nodded and Vancleef left the room. 

Anduin felt awkward now, the room silent save for what was possibly the distant yelling of a brawl. The place was dusty and the bed he was on was stiff and uncomfortable, the air a little too cold. Anduin’s mind went back to the collar, and to how alone he felt, and he tried to call the light again. He could recite any prayer he knew, it wasn’t getting much of a reaction. The light did not reply to him, nor could he feel it within himself. Anduin huffed, dipping his head down and staring at the doorway, waiting for someone to return, looking like a bored puppy. 

It was a minute or two later, but the girl made her way up the stairs and into the room, this time with a bowl of soup in her hands. The bowl wasn’t very full, and Anduin noticed drips of it falling down the rim, probably from her going up the stairs. She held it with an old towel, and placed the bowl on the floor on top of it. She then smiled to the dragon, sitting down where she stood, waiting for his reaction. 

Anduin realized he was waiting for her to say something, or give instructions, or motion for him. He sat up and hopped off the bed, joining the girl down onto the floor. The soup looked like beef stew of some kind, large chunks of meat and potato in a somewhat lacking bowl of broth. He wondered if the girl spilled some of it on her way here, or if it’d just been poured into the bowl that way. 

Oh, boy, and there was the realization that he had to eat in this form, and he’d never really eaten food in the form of a whelp. He sat before the bowl, meant for humans with spoons, as what was essentially a small to medium sized dog with wings. He was a bit bigger than what he remembered Wrathion looking like in whelp form, at least he thought he was. He hadn’t been able to compare yet, it wasn’t on the top of his to-do list. 

“Don’t worry, I picked the fly out. Auntie made the soup last night, so it’s not that old.” The girl suddenly spoke up.

Oh...uh, great. Anduin would’ve smiled to her, but he wasn’t really sure how his own facial expressions worked right now, so he nodded and went to eat. The soup was cold, but it tasted good. And honestly, Anduin had no idea how hungry he’d gotten until now. It’d been hours, if not more than a day, since he’d last eaten food. His stomach growled and he went from picking at the soup like it’d eat him to scarfing the bowl down.

“Is it true that you will help us feel better?” The girl suddenly asked, catching Anduin off guard.

When she got no response, she continued. 

“Vanessa told me that you could help us beat the bad guys.” She said. “That with your help, they won't starve us anymore.”

Anduin stopped eating completely, ignoring the mess on his face, lifting his head up slowly from the bowl to stare up at the girl. What was she talking about?

“She said that when she beats the bad guys in the city, I can have a nice big pretty house, and that we’ll get all the food in the world, and all the toys. She said I could have a puppy that won’t run away and get hurt by the boars too. That he’ll be safe when we move to the city.”

Anduin… realized then that he didn’t understand their situation as well as he thought he had. At least not from their point of view.

“Your bowl is empty!” The girl smiled, standing up and picking the bowl up. “You cleaned it too!”

She then frowned, looking back down to him. “I’d get you seconds but mom says I can’t. No one gets seconds until the entire town is fed.” She then leaned down and scooted closer to him, continuing in a hushed tone. “Don’t tell mom, but if you be nice to Vanessa, she’ll give you seconds. She gave my brother seconds before Morty’s house even got their bowls out.”

“Yulia, my dear, what are you telling him?” 

The two looked up at the doorway to see an older woman in mage-like robes, followed into the room by Vanessa Vancleef.

“Nothing!” The girl grinned, putting the bowl in between her arm and side, using the towel to then grab Anduin’s mouth and clean it. 

Anduin was caught by surprise, the girl rubbing the towel all around his mouth- er, muzzle?- and scales, even into his nose. When she was happy with her work, she ran her hands down the scales on his back, petting him a few times. The sensation of being pet was really weird, and gave him a shiver. 

“Yulia, go clean that bowl. And your auntie needs some help with the pigs.” The older woman spoke. 

“Okay!” 

The girl gave Anduin another pet before running down the stairs, the bowl and towel in her hands. He watched her leave, thinking about how strange it felt to be treated better by the Defias then his own family in Stormwind.

No, no wait. This girl, this town, they were not Defias. The Defias was just the group that protected them. These people, that girl, were just citizens. He shouldn’t think of them as Defias, not her. She was not his family’s enemy. 

Anduin’s attention was taken from him when the older lady picked him up and sat with him on the bed, her taking a look at the collar around his neck. She moved his head around with her hand, humming to herself as she inspected the device. 

“Can you remove it?” Vancleef asked, watching the woman do her work.

“Of course!” The woman looked back at Vancleef with a playful glare. “I’ve seen dragon magic before, this is nothing.”

“Dragon magic?” Vancleef looked confused. “The collar wasn’t put on him by the crown?”

The woman laughed. “No, no! This has black dragonflight all over it!” 

The older woman mumbled a spell, waving her hands around, before tapping the collar. The collar glowed for a short period of time before the woman pulled the collar off, the piece of metal breaking into two. 

Anduin felt the light return, soothing his uneasiness. 

“So the rumors that you worked against Onyxia are true then, huh?” Vancleef asked the older woman. “Who would’ve thought.”

The woman inspected the collar now that it was off, then cast a spell, putting the two halves back together. She smiled, putting the collar into the bag she carried on her back. She turned back to Anduin, now noticing the burn scars against his neck. 

“Oof, that doesn’t look good.” The woman frowned. “I’m not a nurse though. I thought scales were harder than that.” 

“I’m pretty sure they are.” Vancleef caught Anduin’s gaze. “So, what’s your name?”

Anduin could feel the light, sure, but he still wasn’t so sure on being able to talk. He opened his mouth, attempting to say something, but no real words came out. He looked confused, with helped the other two catch on.

“Looks like the collar wasn’t holding yer voice back.” The older woman noted. “Weak scales, no voice, it seems today just isn’t your day.”

“So what do we do with him?” Vancleef looked agitated. Yeah, having a black dragon would help out the Defias a lot, but it would help more if they could communicate to each other more. 

“Don’t worry, lass, I have another idea.” The older woman said, reaching into her bag to search around. She appeared to pick up and look at several different objects, all different colored crystals, before finding the one she was after and turning back to Anduin. 

“Here,” She said, handing him the crystal, which he took gently with his mouth. “It’s...supposed to align your inner self, in a way.”

“Sounds hippy.” Vancleef commented. 

“Sure, but it works.” The woman continued. “Use it and it’ll search your soul and fix whatever is broken. It’s used to help those who cannot express themselves, or are having an off day with their mana, etc etc.”

Anduin sat there with the crystal in his mouth, waiting for something to happen.

The woman then laughed. “No, no, you have to activate it too. Just, relax and breath in, but don’t swallow it or anything.”

Anduin then nodded in understanding, relaxing himself and his limbs, closing his eyes and focusing his mind on the crystal he held in his jaws. He breathed in deeply, not letting the crystal fall into his mouth. The crystal glowed a soft pink, a small cloud of energy pulled from the crystal into Anduin’s mouth. It seemed to linger inside him for a second before everything began to change. 

The woman and Vancleef stood back as they watched the whelpling glow, transforming the whelp from whelp to humanoid form. As the transformation went on, the whelp dropped the crystal from its mouth, into the hands of an older teenage boy. When the glow faded, Anduin sat on the edge of the bed, back in his normal human form. Anduin then opened his eyes, seeing the stares of the women towards him. 

He took in breath, looking down at himself, letting the crystal fall to his lap as he felt his chest and arms and legs. 

“I-it worked!” He gasped, then smiled when he heard his own voice. He looked up to the woman. “Thank you! Thank you!”

The older woman smiled, “You can call me Mortor. Elizabetta Mortor, at your service.”

“Thank you, Mortor.” Anduin replied. 

“An interesting choice of human form.” Vancleef spoke up. “What should we call you, then?”

Anduin paused, realizing he probably should not tell them who he was. If they believed him to be the missing prince they would probably want to use him against his father, or kill him, or something bad. Anduin didn’t want to get on Vancleef’s bad side just yet. He’d prefer to learn more about whatever plan she wanted him in on. Outing himself would be a bad idea. 

“I-” He began, “I’m Andrew.” Ah, fuck, a stupid name, honestly. How obvious could he possibly be?!

“That’s an oddly human name, but I suppose you’ve had to hide for a long time.” Vancleef frowned. 

“Yes, yes, I’m so used to this, forgive me.” Anduin felt his self confidence plummet. “Alnyxia. N-named after, after Onyxia. Yeah.”

“So she was your mother, huh?” Mortor hummed. “How did you survive? I was part of the party that helped the crown destroy Onyxia’s brood. The eggs and any whelps or drakes or kin we saw died. I was pretty sure that by the time of the Cataclysm, her lineage had been exterminated.” 

“I-” Anduin paused. “It's a long story I’d rather not get into.”

“Understandable.”

“So the crown found you, and if what I heard was right, you’ve kidnapped the prince.” Vancleef said. “I’m impressed. Surprised they even caught you if you were passing yourself off as the prince.”

“A mage caught onto me.” Anduin replied. “Stepped on her rune, it trapped me, it was my oversight.” 

“Mages can be tricky.” Vancleef nodded her head, side-eyeing Mortor. “But we have much more to worry about beside a mage and her runes.”

“Go on.” Anduin said.

“It’s more than likely that the king will send more activity our way since we escaped with you. I will need to adjust some of my planning, I was expecting to have more down time before he looked our way again.”

“And your plan?” Mortor asked. 

“Well, to put it simply, with the crown prince missing, “ She looked to Anduin, “King Wrynn will be distracted. It’s a perfect chance to attack, as soon as he turns to search another direction. Alnyxia, you know where his son is. We can either use his son as bait, or if you’ve lost him, we can send them on a goose chase after you, leaving my team to off the king.”

“Sounds a little too simple.” Mortor commented. 

“Well of course there is more to it but I have to finalize before setting the plan in stone.” Vancleef replied. “Forgive me for being excited that we’re closer to vengeance than before.”

Anduin gulped down his nervousness. 

“So, I would like to discuss more on this later, but there are things I need to attend to first. In the meantime, Mortor can show you around. You will stand out in your very royal disguise, we have clothes if you want to change, but no one here knows what the prince looks like so you’ll be fine.” Vancleef told Anduin. 

“Of course,” Anduin nodded. His clean blond hair and bright blue and yellow clothing would probably freak out the people a little more then she let on though, he thought. “Changing, or at least grabbing a cloak, might hel-”

Pain. 

Anduin grabbed his sides, hissing in pain as the crystal in his lap began to glow again. Vancleef and Mortor watches as the human shook in pain, the crystal glowing, and forcing him back into his whelpling form. They heard his gasps of pain turn into more animal like cries. When everything calmed down, they were back with a mute whelpling on the bedding. 

“Mortor!” Vancleef turned angrly to the mage. 

The woman sighed. “Unfortunately the crystal only works periodically, and needs to recharge, but it usually lasts longer than that…” 

“That’s something I believe is worth mentioning at the start.” Vancleef replied. 

“And pain is not something I’ve seen it give.” Mortor picked up the crystal, inspecting it. “I wonder…”

Anduin blinked, looking from the crystal to Mortor. 

“Well, it’s supposed to be mending whatever is off with your mental or biological state.” Mortor explained. “It’s possible that your body rejected it.” 

“So it won’t work on him?” Vancleef asked. 

“Oh, it works, it’s just not as effective, and causes pain it seems.” The woman answered. “I can search around for something stronger or different, but I can't promise anything.” 

Anduin nodded his head in understanding, hearing the lack of confidence in her voice. 

Vancleef turned to Anduin. “I guess I will leave you to think about my plan. I hope we have a deal.” 

Vancleef turned to leave, “Stay as long as you need, the room is yours. Mortor can help you with anything you need.”

Just before she disappeared from the doorway, she added. “Help yourself to the rations, but don’t feast yourself on them. I assume dragons eat more than humans.”

Vancleef left Anduin alone with Mortor, and in that moment, despite his confusion and disappointment, and his returning hunger, Anduin only really wanted to be left alone again. 

“I will head out too,” Mortor stood up. “If you would like a tour, you can follow me, but if you need rest, I will see you later.”

Anduin nodded in reply, but made no move to follow her as she left.

He was tired, really, more than anything, and would like some rest that was uninterrupted. 

-...-

Anduin stayed in Moonbrook for a few days, spending his time interacting with the locals, hearing their stories, playing with the children, helping them cook and clean, all while awaiting further directions from Vancleef. She’d talked with him a few times, but not yet about her plans. In the time it seemed Stormwind had sent more men to Sentinel Hill, and adventurers were getting caught close by. 

Anduin during his exploration of the town caught a glimpse of his human form in one of the mirrors. Wearing the crystal on a rope around his neck like a necklace, he could use it once every three hours, multiple times if he was careful, and he’d been able to get it to work for as long as half an hour, though sometimes it only worked for a few minutes. It had a recharge time based on how long it worked. 

His hair was blond and the longer he stayed the less clean it looked. He still wore it in a ponytail, but he let it down sometimes. He had curved horns on his head, which he really couldn’t feel, but they were there and he could touch them. His eyes were red, but they were not as red and glowing as he remembered Wrathion’s eyes to be. And sometimes, sometimes when he blinked, he thought he could see bits of blue in them. Sometimes. 

He’d found, while cleaning his clothing in a barrel of water and soap, that he had scales appearing on his back. One of the older ladies showing him how to do the laundry had pointed them out, and even touched them, which he found them to be sensitive. He never remembered Wrathion saying his scales were sensitive, so why were his?

He also had a burn scar across his neck, no matter the form he was in. 

It hurt to remember why he had it.

“O-ow!” Anduin hissed as he felt a scale come loose and fall, the old woman that was with him stepping back. 

“I’m sorry, I hadn’t meant to hurt you!” She sounded slightly frightened. 

Anduin placed the clothes in his hand to the side, wiping his soapy hands on his pants. 

“I-it’s fine, it’s not your fault.” Anduin said, turning to pick up the scale. He looked at it, seeing the scale, though black in appearance, shine with a dark purple and orange. It looked beautiful, but was thin and fragile. 

“Are you shedding?” The woman asked, frowning. “Do dragons shed?”

“I...I don’t know.” Anduin answered, flipping the scale over, unsure of what to do with it. 

“You don’t?” The woman asked. 

Anduin smiled awkwardly, realizing if he was acting like a dragon, he probably should pretend to know these things. “I-I mean I’m kinda young, I’ve not gotten to that age!”

“Ahh, you may be right.” The woman smiled, nodding her head. “Does it hurt where it was?”

Anduin felt cold air where it had been, and it hurt to push against the open area, like he’d had a scab there that was picked off, and now the area below it needed healing. 

“I’m fine.”

Anduin placed the scale down, reaching his hand back to where it fell from, calling the light to his palm, letting it heal. He made sure that no one else in the room could clearly see the light coming to his aid. Having to explain why he could use the light as an onyxian dragon would..not be easy. 

“Oh! Pretty!” Walking by, Yulia ran over and picked up the scale from off the ground. “Is this yours!?”

Anduin let his hand fall to his side, turning to smile to the girl. “Yes, it is.”

“Can I have it?” The girl asked, raising the scale up to the light, letting it shine it’s colors. Anduin watched, in the back of his mind noting that the light that shone onto it was just a little too orange and flickery. 

“Yulia!” The older woman began to scold her for daring to ask, but Anduin raised his hand up to stop her. 

“You can have it!” Anduin told the girl, the girl grinning. “But you have to promise me something.”

The girl eagerly nodded her head, jumping with excitement. “Yes sir!”

“You won’t be too rough playing tag later, okay?” Anduin smiled, remembering the time earlier that day when he played hide and seek and tag with the kids. Yulia was a bit bigger then the others who played, and she could get a bit too rough with them. 

Yulia nodded. “I promise!”

“Good!” Anduin gave her a thumbs up. “It’s yours!”

“YAY! THANK YOU!” She yelled, then taking off to show her mother, probably. 

“Don’t lose it!” Anduin yelled back.

“I WON-” 

Yulia had it to the doorway that lead out of the building, stopping and freezing mid yell. Anduin noticed a reflection of light on her, and a fear in her eyes. 

“Yulia!” He called after her, getting up from the floor, the other women sitting around the laundry becoming alert as well. 

Anduin ran over to the doorway, realizing there were yelling and screams from outside. He pushed past the girl, stepping outside to see that one of the old houses had been set ablaze. Black smoke filled the sky, flames pouring from the wood and windows, ember dancing, light reflecting across the entire town. As his eyes traveled down the building, he saw a few rushing inside, a woman rush out, and distantly, torches. 

Men from Sentinel Hill. 

A large group of them, standing, backing off away from the building they torched, holding their flames high, laughing, yelling at those who confronted them.It appeared that the town was reacting too late, as they’d reach their horses and were about to flee. Anduin searched the area, looking around to see if he could see Vancleef, but it seemed she’d not been altered yet. 

Anduin rushed back to grab a cloak, forgetting anything else, running out of the building while transforming back into his whelp form. He took off into the sky to get a better look, the heat of the blazing building keeping him from getting too close. He saw the men who went into the building come back out, coughing, carrying some boxes. Anduin flew over to them, switching back to his humanoid form, hoping that the crystal would not be too strained. 

“Is there anyone else there!?” Anduin asked, the sound of the roaring flame making it difficult to be heard.

“Just rations!” The man yelled, continuing to get away from the building. 

Anduin looked from the men back to the building, knowing that no matter what was in there, he couldn’t risk being a hero. He couldn’t risk going in to check, going in to save more of their food supply, going in for anything. Whatever black dragons had that helped them survive bathing in lava and napping in fireplaces, Anduin didn’t inherit, so he couldn’t risk his life. 

He growled, looking back down at the tower, gathering to watch their home go up in flames, watching as Vancleef finally appeared from one of the buildings, the one connected to the cave tunnels, and stare in shock as the wooden strucker cracked and popped. He looked from her to the evacuating men, on their horses, with their torches. He growled, the fire reflecting off him, making his scales shine, his eyes glow dangerously red. 

Vancleef watched as the whelp shot off into the dark sky, in the direction of Sentinel Hill. She had no time to call out to him, to ask what in the hell he as doing. No, she raised her voice, beginning to command the townspeople in hopes that their teamwork could save the building before it collapsed completely. 

-

If the Sentinel Hill men had hoped to burn down Moonbrook’s rations, their food, then they had done just that. Their plan had gone accordingly, and to make it better, they escaped with their lives. 

But when they would return to their station they would find retaliation. 

Anduin made it to Sentinel Hill before the group of men returned, hiding down behind the large stone walls surrounding the place. He swiftly, before being found, transformed back into his human form, ignoring the pain he felt as it happened. He still wore his dirty pants, and forgot to grab his shirt and shoes in his rush to leave, but had the cloak, which was all he needed. He adjusted it, letting it hide his horns and his bare chest, hoping that his eyes would not be too obvious. 

He walked up the hill, taking a deep breath, letting his anger override his anxiety as he acted like he belonged here. He hoped that maybe he would come across as an odd adventurer and that the guardsmen would pay him no mind. For the most part, it seemed to work. He nodded to the guards as he approached, and stepped into the barracks without a problem. 

The building was filled with men and women. Since it was so late, most were eating a late dinner, or drinking, or just enjoying each others company while on the night shift. Some would stand and leave to go to their beds, or to go to another station. Anduin watched carefully, his goal to slip by without much attention, and to find their storage. 

Anduin knew the layout of the building already, having watched the architects submit their plans years ago for approval from his father. He continued walking past the eating area, past the understaffed kitchen, which seemed largely empty at the moment. In the back was where all the food was. The rations, the local hunts, the local farmed foods. The entire food supply for Sentinel Hill, all within one room. 

For a moment, gazing at all of the food, he knew what he was doing was wrong. That this was wrong. 

But Sentinel Hill would receive emergency restock from Stormwind in about a day. 

Moonbrook would get nothing. 

Anduin knew he had powers of a black dragon, could feel that they were there, waiting to be called, but he still used what he knew best. He called to the light, expecting it to hesitate, or stall, expecting the light to shun him for his actions. But no, he called for it and it came. The light, too, could burn as much as fire did. 

He shouldn’t have been surprised, the light was never always good. If an Alliance priest and a Horde priest could strike each other down on the battlefield, whose side was the light truly on?

Anduin set the food ablaze with light, instructing it to destroy their rations, but could not bring himself to set an inch of flooring or wall ablaze. As the light did it’s work, Anduin grabbed what fresh product he could into his arms, turning to escape before he would be found.

“H-HEY!”

Anduin turned, seeing a man blocking the doorway and his escape. The man wore clothes and indicated he was from the kitchen, and in his hands was a butcher knife. Their eyes met, and Anduin’s heart skipped a beat. 

“M-my prince?” The man backed off, surprise in his voice, as he recognized the prince’s face. 

In that moment Anduin recognized him as a man who used to work in the Keep’s kitchen, but in this moment Anduin had to ignore his feelings. He would regret this later.

Anduin raised his right hand, careful to juggle what product he was stealing, and called to the light. The man looked scared, and it hurt Anduin to do this, but he stunned the man, and let the light knock him unconscious. Once the man was out of the way, he wrapped what product he could in his cloak, wearing it as a bag, and escaped the building through a window, shifting into his whelp form to take off back to Moonbrook.

-...-

“My Lord! A mage has returned from Westfall with news.” 

Varian sat, adjusting his shoulder pad, as the guards man entered the room. Behind him, a mage from Sentinel Hill. 

“Yes, what is it?” Varian asked. 

“Sentinel Hill is requesting a complete restock of rations, sire.” The mage informed. 

Varian frowned. “I just sent over a shipment along with the crew of soldiers, did the locals hijack it?”

The mage frowned, “Sire, the shipment made it fine, however one of the chefs reported finding the entire stock of food burnt just a few hours ago.” 

“Burnt?” Varian echoed. “And just the food? What damages are there to the kitchens, I can send over someone to look into recovery.”

“No, it’s just the food. There isn't a scorch mark anywhere on the pantry.” The mage informed. “There is a witness.”

“Has he been interviewed yet?” Varian asked.

The mage gulped. “He’s being seen to now, he’s not hurt, but it seems a spell it giving him narcolepsy. What we’ve managed to get from him is that he saw a boy purposely burn down the food with-with light.”

“The light?” Why would a follower of the light use it to purposely destroy their food source? Varian looked confused. 

“Uh, m, well, my king,” The mage shifted uncomfortable, “The man also claimed that the boy stole food, and he is right, there were some missing meat hunted down earlier that day. He also also...also claimed he r-recognized the boy, but we are really unsure of how credible his memory is at the moment.”

“Oh? Who did this?” Varian growled. “Who do I need to seek out for payment of this new shipment of food?”

“He claims it was the- the prince. Prince Anduin.” The mage stuttered. “He said he recognized that head of blond hair anywhere.”

Varian frowned. At first though, the idea his son would do this was laughable. Almost insulting. But the man claimed he was a light-user, and that the food was burnt down with light. If the whelpling was continuing to pretend to be his son, then how would it have use of the light?

“Are you sure the light was what burnt down the food supply, not actual fire?” Varian asked after a pause.

“We’re positive! There is a clear difference between the two when it comes to burning objects. Light doesn’t leave behind ash, save for special instances, nor does it smoke. It was also directed only on the food, as I said. Fire would’ve consumed the entire building had we not reacted fast enough.”

Varian still didn’t feel like he could believe it.

But, but he believed the mage, and in that, he felt a strange ping of hope. 

His son was alive. 

Varian had no clue why his son would do this, and why his son wasn’t trying to come home, but there was no doubt to him that his son could use light - and and Onyxian whelp could not- so it had to be Anduin. 

“Food will be sent to Sentinel Hill as soon as possible. In the meantime I want every man out there to be searching for my son!”

-...-

Anduin’s reaction to the fire had been viewed as agreement to Vancleef’s plan. He returned from Sentinel Hill with food, and though it couldn’t replace what was lost in the fire, it was greatly appreciated by the people. Anduin had thought the next day would be spent hunting boar, and that he would help as much as he could, but when he awoke, he found the Defias setting up to depart Moonbrook. 

The Defias were preparing to leave to go and kill the king. 

Anduin watched as they set up their horses with supplies to make camp in Elwynn, as they prepared small rations, and gear, and other items, and weapons. He watched. 

Anduin had agreed to her plan, sure, but he hadn’t prepared for her to set out so early. He also in his mind hadn’t reached this far. He wasn’t actually going to help distract the crown, nor was he going to help them kill his father. 

He loved his father, no matter what he did, or what they did, and he certainly was never going to kill him. Ever. 

Anduin knew his time was up here in Moonbrook. He enjoyed his stay, enjoyed the locals, and knew that his view of them had been largely wrong. They needed help from Stormwind that they had not had in well over twenty years, if not thirty, or forty, Anduin had no idea. And when he could figure himself out, and return to his father’s side without his head chopped off, he would get Westfall the help it needed.

But now?

Anduin took a deep breath, jumping out of watching when he found the right window of time, none of the Defias too close to their supplies. None of them too close to catch him. 

The whelp flew over, knocking the supplies off the horses, spooking the horses greatly. The horses started fussing, upset with his presence, making loud noises. His window was closing. 

“H-Hey!” one of the men began approaching, “What are you-”

Anduin roared out, letting flames from within destroy the supplies he’d knocked off the horses. He watched as cloth and documents and weapons and herbs and rations went up into flames. 

This was awful, but it was only the supplies for the Defias, he reminded himself, not the supplies of the towns people. 

“STOP HIM!”

He heard angry shouts as he continued, and as the Defias members ran over to stop him, he shot up into the air, higher than the roofs. He took one last look around, seeing the townspeople watch him in confusion, seeing Yulia. What was he doing? Wasn’t he on their side? Why was he destroying their things? They had no idea.

Vancleef heard the shouting and raced out of the building, mid discussion with another Defias member. She saw the horses being calmed down by the men and all of her trip supplies burning away, and as she followed the worried gazes of the towns people, she saw that damned whelpling flying away. 

Growling, she ran over to grab one of the horses, jumping on. Quickly, she was able to gain control, and raced after the whelp. It took a minute or two, but she’d made it close enough to be within hearing distance, she was sure of it.

“HEY!” She screamed, anger boiling within her. “WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU LEAVING!?”

The whelp tried to speed up. 

“YOU’RE A TRAITOR, AREN'T YOU!?” She yelled, watching the whelp panic at her voice. “YOU’RE JUST LIKE THAT BLACK PRINCE! YOU’VE BETRAYED YOUR KIND! YOUR FAMILY! YOU WERE NEVER GOING TO HELP US, WERE YOU!?”

The whelp cried out, but Vancleef didn’t care for it anymore. It was speeding up, and her horse was getting tired.

“WHERE IS THE PRINCE!?”” She shouted. “IF IT’S NOT THE KING’S DEATH, THEN WHAT ARE YOU PLOTTING!?”

She knew she would get no answer. 

“FUCK YOU!”

The horse slowed down to a stop after it nearly tripped, and Vancleef watched the whelp fly off towards Elywnn, seething in her own rage. 

She growled, refusing to take her eyes off the whelp until it disappeared into the trees.

“Or,” She frowned, “is it you?”

Now that she thought about it, and all that she’d seen and heard, it felt so obvious.

“You’re the prince, aren't you?”

-...-

Anduin hid in the trees of Elwynn forest, near the edge of Westfall, careful to stay away from the buildings and the paths. He knew he would regret many of the things he’d done throughout his life, and he wasn’t sure if this was one. He prayed to the light to calm himself, to ask if he was on the right path. The light hummed in reply, giving no information, but his anxiousness died down slightly so that helped. 

In the days that followed since standing on the rune, he’d had a lot of time to think about this and how he may be able to prove himself to Wrathion and his father and to Jaina. 

If this was Onyxia’s doing, then he’d need help from someone with knowledge of dragons, all dragons, and who wouldn’t kill him on sight. 

Someone who he knew had a kind heart, and would give an Onyxian whelpling a chance, possibly. 

Anduin sighed, knowing that reaching Northrend would be difficult, but that was the only place he knew of where he could possibly reach the Life-Binder. 

Queen Alexstraza might know what was happening to him.

He prayed that she would. 

-...-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted to get this one in before I spend the day with family. I usually read over the chapter after finishing, but don't do heavy editing, so forgive me if you find errors.   
> Also, I'm not sure where Alexstrazsa canonically lives, but I assume that since I always see her at Wyrmrest Temple, that's her hub, and that's Anduin's next destination. Let's hope he can get there. ;D
> 
> Thank you for your feedback! Please leave your thoughts, comments, ideas, theories, etc, as they are the greatest form of motivation!! ily <3 <3


	5. I Need Your Help (Remember)

-...-

Anduin didn’t like this plan he had but he hadn’t come up with anything better.

He only knew two ways to get to Northrend quickly, and that was either using the portal to Dalaran in Stormwind’s Mage Tower, or hiding on the boat that visited the Stormwind Harbor once a week. 

Both required him to return to Stormwind and one of them could set him back weeks.

He could always wait a few days, the boat ride would be a safer bet in the long run. The ride would take awhile, but the crew on the boat was small and usually only one or two adventurers took it. If he took the boat, he could probably hide below deck and steal food when the crew was asleep. 

But the downside was it would take him days of waiting around Stormwind for the boat to arrive, it would take days of travel across the sea, and Anduin would likely not reach Wrymrest Temple for another week or two. And Anduin didn’t want to wait. He wanted to fix this problem of his as soon as possible. He wanted to return to normal and go home and forget all of this happened. 

This desire to get to Northrend faster would lead him to look towards sneaking into Stormwind’s Mage Tower, but the idea of this also scared the living hell out of him. He could probably sneak into the Mage District via the mountains around Stormwind, walk into the tower cloaked in human form, and hope that none of the mages, adventurers, etc, noticed him. But the Mage Tower, due to heavy traffic, was heavily guarded. 

One wrong step and he’d be dead. 

Anduin took a deep breath, calming himself, as he sat hidden in the mountains between Stormwind and Westfall.

This will be risky, but like holding your breath underwater for a few seconds, he could run in and get through the portal and could put this fear behind him. In the span of less than five minutes he could be on his way to Wyrmrest. He could reach the temple and hopefully find Queen Alexstrasza by the next morning. 

If everything went wrong, he thought to himself, then at least he knew he had the light by his side this time. 

Anduin began his mission, sneaking down the mountain until he got close enough to fly into the city, careful to avoid the sight of griffon riders. Hiding in the shadows of the architecture, he found himself suddenly caught up in his fear, and his legs would not move. He watched as griffon riders flew by, noticing an increased number of them. 

He thought back on how much safer going the boat route was, but he’d already made it into the city, he had to continue on. 

He dropped down into a dark alleyway between two houses, placing the crystal that hung around his neck into his mouth. He tried to relax as much as possible, closing his eyes and breathing in. He hoped the soft pink glow that would come from his transformation wouldn’t gain anyone’s attention, and as soon as he was in his cloaked human form, he was off. Walking as fast as he could towards and upwards into the Mage Tower.

He eyed the many people flying in and out of the tower, glad that there was far too much traffic for the guards to take a proper look at him. He pulled on the hood of his cloak, letting it hide his face, horns, and eyes just a little more. He brushed past the crowd, upwards into the portal that took him into the portal room. 

Walking down the hallway, Anduin found a slight comfort in the newly built room. It was much much larger, with more room for the larger amount of traffic, and had lights and plants and was just breathtaking. If he hadn’t been in this situation, sitting by the fountains and people watching would have been nice. 

Anduin reached the hallway with the portals and paused to take a look around, searching for the portal to Northrend. As the seconds clocked by, he found it increasingly difficult with all the people, and the realization he was in the middle of it began to agitate his nerves. He glanced around, feeling as if someone was staring at him, and his fears reappeared into his mind. 

What if there were runes placed in front of the portals? 

There had to be runes somewhere. 

And the Blacktalon? They had to be searching for him.

They probably knew he was here. 

Anduin tried to keep himself from shaking, unsure if there was someone looking at him or if it was his paranoia. He walked down the hallway to search around for a split second meeting eyes with someone. He didn’t recognize them, but their stares burned into his soul a little too long, and he couldn’t take it any longer. He bolted into a sprint, into the nearest portal.

It took Anduin a second to calm down, reassuring himself still in human form with the cloak over his head. He brushed down his clothes as he let out a deep breath. He looked up to see where he’d appeared. 

The Exodar. 

Shit. 

Anduin could turn around and go back through the portal and find the right one, but he didn’t want to return to Stormwind. And, as he started walking as to not look too out of place, he realized the light hum of the building was calming him down. He always loved visiting the Exodar, and it’d been far too long since he’d last been here. The light was strong here and it made him feel better about his misstep. 

There weren’t a lot of people here, there never really was. Guards at their stations, a few travelers and locals wandering around. Anduin hoped that maybe he could find a mage somewhere here and maybe they could conjure a portal to Northrend. 

Anduin walked around looking for anyone who even resembled a mage. He saw many guards and civilians and priests and paladins, but not much else. At least based on what he could judge with looks. After about five minutes aimlessly wandering around the crashed ship, Anduin saw an elf in the distance with a familiar uniform. The elf had on the same outfit that the Stormwind Mage District mages wore when on duty. Cautiously, keeping his head down and face covered, he ran over to tap the mage’s shoulder. 

“Excuse me.” Anduin spoke, trying to make his voice a little off. 

The mage turned around, and instantly Anduin’s blood ran cold.

Manasaber. 

“Can I help you, kid?” The night elf woman frowned, turning to see the cloaked boy.

“Y-yes, I’m in need of a portal to Northrend. I was wondering if you could help me.” Anduin spoke, his eyes studying the floor. 

“Hmmm.” Manasaber sighed, her hands filled with items recently bought from a local vendor. “Look, I’ve got work to return to in Stormwind. 100 gold.”

“G-gold?” Anduin breathed. He knew that mages had the right to ask for payment, but as prince no mage had never asked for payment from him. Most mages that transported him were paid by his father as their job. 

That said, Anduin didn’t have any gold on him. 

“Look, bills in the big city add up. If you can’t pay up, there’s a portal to Stormwind’s portal network not far. I’m headed there myself, I can show you.” Manasaber grumbled. 

“N-no, t-that’s fine.” Anduin stopped her from walking onwards, searching his mind for something he could give her that was valuable. 

He didn’t have gold, and he couldn’t really give her and IOU or a letter to his father or something. All the things that he could trade as a prince were worthless to a mage. Especially when he couldn’t give himself away as the prince, nor as a dragon, or whatever. He had the crystal around his neck, and for a moment he’d seen her glance at it, but he couldn’t give that away when it was his only way of communication. He had some rations in a pack on his belt, but he needed those to make the trip to Queen Alexstrasza. 

The mage seemed to be getting restless with his silence, but luckily he did have an idea. 

“I don’t have gold, but I do have something else of value.” Anduin spoke. 

He reached under his cloak, and unseen to the mage, scratched at his upper arm, where he’d found a patch of black scales earlier. He picked at one and pulled it off, holding back a hiss when it hurt. He pulled the scale out and held it out to the mage. 

“This should cover it, right?” He asked. A black dragon scale was always valuable. It sold for a lot of gold, but also could be used in all kinds of trade skills. 

The Mage took the scale, inspecting it, holding it up to the light to watch the black scale shine with a dark purple and orange. 

The Mage then scowled, turning back to Anduin and flicking his cloak hood back, his face now no longer hidden from her sight. His horns and dull red eyes and fearful face and blond hair. 

“You!” Manasaber barked, her voice echoing across the building. “You are either the dumbest dragon i’ve ever seen or you are taking me to be a fool!”

Anduin noticed the gazes of guards and citizens and he felt himself cower in her anger. 

“P-Please! L-let me explain myself! I-I need your help!” Anduin felt himself shake and his anxiousness explode like a volcano. 

The mage dropped the items in her hands and conjured a spell, purple arcane magic appearing in her hands, and Anduin stepped back to realize she was stunning him. He felt his limbs lock up and his heart race even faster as he couldn’t move at all. 

He thought about the abuse, the yelling, the threats of death. He didn’t want to go back home. 

Anduin calle the light as the mage called over guards, hoping the light would free him, guide him out of his imprisonment. It had lead him here, hadn’t it? It was strong here, wasn’t it? Anduin felt tears fall from his eyes, desperate not to fail again. 

As the guards approached and citizens were ushered away, Anduin felt light. He felt a deep well of light within his chest. 

He wasn’t sure exactly what happened. Wasn’t sure if the arcane stun was dispelled to allow the guards to grab him, or if it was the work of the crystal, or if it was all the work of the light, but with a burst of light, Anduin found himself unstunned, but in whelpling form. 

“CATCH HIM!” Guards yelled as they watched Anduin scramble to bolt out of their reach, his wings pulling him off the ground and high up into the air. 

Anduin was sure his heart would explode, trying to find his next step. He watched as the guards and mage raised hell, yelling and shouting to clear others and to block exists. Anduin saw Manasaber cast arcane missiles at him, and with a squeak, the whelpling dodged them. He continued to fly around, looking back to make sure he wouldn’t be hit. It worked for a few seconds, but as he dove down, he hit someone, and both went crashing to the floor. 

“Prophet!” The guards and mage ran over, the mage helping Prophet Velen up while the guards surrounded the whelpling. 

Anduin struggled to stand, his head spinning from the crash. By the time he looked up, he saw weapons pointed at him and the dark faces of the Exodar guards. He turned, meeting the glare of Manasaber, but beside her, the gaze of Prophet Velen. Their eyes met, and Anduin felt himself lower his head. 

“This is the whelpling Stormwind is after.” Manasaber informed Velen. “He is the one who took the prince.”

Velen had received word about a runaway whelp days ago, as did every other Alliance territory leader. The Horde probably received word as well, if only the Warchief. Velen watched the whelpling cower before him, the whelp’s body language and actions appearing odd. This whelpling was not putting much of a fight, and it’s flying appeared messy if not like a newborn with no prior knowledge of flight.

As Velen look in the whelp’s appearance, he noticed oddities. It’s eyes were dull, unlike the fiery red that most black dragons shared no matter their forms. On its neck were burn scars, and a necklace holding a crystal of some kind. Almost unnoticeable, but Velen made sure to note to himself that one or two scales were missing, relieving the skin beneath. Velen was no master in the ways of animals, but he knew that shedding was a sign of stress and other unhealthy dangers. 

“If you wish, Prophet, I can inform the King that we’ve found him.” Manasaber spoke. 

Velen held up a hand to motion her to pause, as he continued his inspection, his attention was finally drawn to something deeper. 

The Light. 

Velen felt the Light nudge him forward, and as he listened, he could feel the light within the whelpling. It was strong. It was familiar. 

The Whelpling still stared at him with fear and made no attempt to speak.

Anduin realized as Velen paused the mage that maybe the light had brought him here on purpose. The more Velen hesitated to do anything with him, the more Anduin realized that Velen might be his greatest ally in this. Velen had to believe him, right? The Light would tell him the truth, wouldn’t it? And this time he could prove himself. 

Velen and Manasaber watched as the whelp lowered its head to the crystal on it’s neck. The guards stood nervously as the whelp took the crystal into its mouth, relaxing as it breathed in and out. While the mage and guards took position to fight, Velen felt no need to move. A pink glow nearly blinded them as the whelp transformed. As the glow disappeared, a boy on his knee. 

“Prophet,” Anduin spoke, the crystal dropping from his mouth. “I need your help.”

“Anduin.” Velen spoke, much to the surprise of the mage. He stepped forward, reaching out to place and hand on Anduin’s shoulders. 

“P-Prophet!” Manasaber gasped. “It’s not the prince! It’s pretending to be him! How could you fall for this?”

Velen motioned for Anduin to stand, and the horned boy did as told. They met eyes and Velen smiled with a sense of pity.

“I have never seen the light shine within a member of the black dragonflight, let alone the very light that shines within my favorite student.” Velen said. “Tell me, dragon, how is this so?”

Anduin almost couldn’t believe this was happening, he found it hard to get words out. After a few failed attempts to speak, he cleared his throat. 

“I wish I could tell you but I’m just as clueless as anyone else.” Anduin spoke with a rushed tone. “I stood on Manasaber’s rune and the next thing I knew I was a dragon a-and everyone wanted me dead.” 

Anduin felt tears swell in his eyes, remembering again the abuse and the yelling and his own fear. Velen saw this in him and offered him comfort, holding his arms out gently. Anduin was still a boy in the laws of his people, and still very much a child anyway, but he was growing older day by day. That said, Anduin was in a time of need and it seemed he’d been hurt greatly by this situation. 

Anduin hesitated, but closed the gap and hide his tears within the fabric of the Prophet’s gown, letting his soft sobs absorb into the embrace. 

“I don't understand.” Manasaber spoke up. “My rune was no trick, it only works on those with the blood of dragons inside them.” 

“And I have no doubt that the one who stood upon your rune was the prince.” Velen spoke, running a hand over Anduin’s head. 

Manasaber frowned, pausing to think, before coming to her own conclusion. 

“Prince Wrynn is half-blood then?” She asked. “Not the son of two humans, but of a human and a dragon?”

Anduin wiped away his tears and stepped back from the Prophet, looking to the mage. 

“Was your birth mother really lady Tiffin?” Manasaber asked. 

Anduin glared at her, angry that she’d dare suggest that to him, let alone think of it. Despite how it was just a question, the idea that it suggested that his parents had lied, and that it was Onyxia who gave birth to him and not his father’s wife, made Anduin’s blood boil. There was no way his father would be part of that. 

“If that were true, I would have reason to suspect King Wrynn would already have known of the young dragon’s identity.” Velen spoke, silently sending light to Anduin to calm the teen down. 

“True.” Manasaber sighed, then bowed to the prince. “Forgive me for my question, Prince Wrynn.”

“I-it’s fine.” Anduin stuttered. 

“I suppose I owe you a portal to Northrend.” Manasaber continued. “Or, back home. With Prophet’s aid, we could try to speak to your father.”

“I…” Anduin wasn’t so sure everything would be magically fixed by just Velen’s word. Besides, he still wanted to seek out Queen Alexstrazsa’s aid. 

“I brought this upon you, let me do whatever I can to help fix it.” She added. 

“I wish to speak to the life-Binder before I seek out my father again.” Anduin said. “I hope that maybe she will know what is going on.”

“If not, she can at least help you gain control of your powers.” Velen nodded in agreement. 

“I hope too that she can speak to my father.” Anduin glanced around. “I understand his anger towards Onyxia and I don’t think it will be easy to talk him down, nor Jaina or Wrathion for that matter. The entire city has been hurt by her, they all have a reason to want me dead.”

“They don’t want you dead.” Velen spoke softly. “They fear that history will repeat itself, but as soon as they seen both I and the Life-Binder back you up, they will embrace you yet again.”

Anduin felt a sense of melancholy to that statement. It wasn’t that simple. Even if they all saw the truth, he wondered if his father’s heart could take another hit. Anduin knew that Varian held a remorse for harming him in the past, and though Anduin forgave him, Varian never forgave himself. What of this time? How would this be different? 

Velen turned to the mage. 

“Lady Manasaber, if you would aid him in reaching Northrend. Then I suppose if you would keep an eye on Stormwind, as you have been working with them in finding the prince” He said. “Once Anduin returns with the Life-Binder, we will make our way to meet with the King.”

“Of course, Prophet.” Manasaber nodded. 

Velen then turned back to Anduin, stepping closer, to gain the boy’s full attention. 

“I would offer more assistance but staying here would only endanger you more. I cannot keep my citizens from seeing you, and I believe many have already seen the whelp. If you need food or rest I will supply what I can but I know the light will aid you in your travels from now on.”

Anduin sniffled, smiling back at him. “Thank you.”

Velen looked up to the guards, and with a silent nod of the head, they all understood the gravity of their situation, and that they should, for now, keep their mouths shut. 

Anduin shuffled away from the Prophet and look towards Manasaber. 

“Portal to Northrend, please.” He said. “I wish to reach the Life-Binder as soon as possible.”

“One portal, coming up.” Manasaber replied, stepping back to start her casting. 

Velen watched as Anduin awaited eagerly to continue his travels, and in the moment, the elder felt worry for him. I mean, Velen always was a little worried for the kid, but never stopped believing in him and his confidence. Here, it seemed his confidence lacked. Hopefully, with the light’s guidance, Anduin would be back at home in loving arms and a warm bed soon enough. 

“You’ll find yourself in Dalaran.” Manasaber said as the portal came to life. “From there you’ll want to head south.”

“Thank you, Lady Manasaber.” Anduin dipped his head. 

“Forgive me for what I’ve done to you, my Prince.” Manasaber shook her head. “Had I known better,”

“You did not know, nor did anyone else.” Anduin replied. “All that matters is that you’ve helped me now, and for that I cannot thank you enough.”

The two nodded to each other, and with one last glance back to Velen, Anduin walked through the portal. 

The portal buzzed for a moment afterwards, before the mage let the spell drop. She sighed, going to pick up her items, but then realizing that she still had the black dragon scale. 

“I should’ve given it back to him.” She said, gazing at it’s reflections of light. 

“I doubt it is of much importance to him now.” Velen replied. 

“You’re right.” She nodded, placing it in her pocket and retrieving her items. 

Velen nodded her off, the two exchanging goodbyes before the mage departed back to Stormwind. Velen watched, thinking back to Anduin. In his gut, the Prophet felt an uneasiness stir. The prophet felt an urge to speak to Anduin again. An urge to make sure the teen was okay, to go after him if not just to see him again. 

The Light did not tell him why he had these feelings. 

The Light told him he would be fine.

-...-

As soon as Anduin appeared in Dalaran, the cold air hit him like a train, the prince shivering in his shirt and cloak. He was not prepared to face the cold weather and he had not prepared for it in the slightest. In fact he was forgotten all about the cold, his focus on finding Wyrmrest Temple. 

“Excuse me!” Anduin coughed, finding a Dalaran guard standing at her position. “Do you know what direction south is?”

The guard, a buff high elf woman, in her warm looking plate armor, nodded, and pointed outward. 

“Thank you!” Anduin nodded and ran off in the direction she indicated. 

Dalaran was busy, with many mages and citizens and visitors all wearing winter clothing. He made his way to the far south side of Dalaran, and hidden in the shadows between two buildings, let himself transform back into a whelpling. Though he found a little more warmth against the cold winds, he knew that his form would provide nowhere near enough body heat to keep himself warm. 

Taking off, he felt the air and wind fly past him, and saw the beauty of Northrend below him. He’d never been here, and in another time, would’ve liked to properly explore the area. There were large glowing purple trees in the distance that looked breathtaking, and Anduin found his curiosity calling, but he had a mission. 

He focused himself and kept his eye-sight on the mountains in front of him, hoping to make it out of Crystalsong Forest and over into Dragonblight by nightfall.

-

His wings ached and the cold bit at his being. The night was calling, sleep sounding so peaceful, and as his eyes felt heavy, the stubborn whelpling finally decided he needed to land. He’d been flying for hours, and made it over the mountains into Dragonblight, but tiredness and hunger drained him of his strength, and he could not go on. 

Below him, he saw many buzzards and monstrous worm-like beasts all surrounding large skeletal remains. He saw bushes and trees not far from them, and decided that would be a better place to hide out instead. Anduin dove down and landed within the trees, closer to the field of snow, as he heard the noise of harpies farther into the forest. It was dangerous here, but he had little choice. 

The trees were cold and appeared dead, but littered with leaves like it was the start of fall. They hide him well as he climbed down the tree he landed on to make it down to land. His body hit the snow and the material crunched a little too loud for his likes. He paused, keeping still, hoping his noise would not attract any other creature. He could probably take on anything that wanted to fight him, but he didn’t want to try. 

Anduin wondered around carefully, seeking out a good place to curl up and sleep, finding a large pile of snow set beside a tree and bushes. With a bit of time, he could dig a small burrow and be kept from the wind and from sight. 

The whelp spent ten or fifteen minutes clawing at the snow, digging his resting spot, as the moonlight shined brighter in the sky. He was losing what little energy he had left, and he yawned. The hole was not as deep as he’d like it, but he was big enough to fit in it. 

Before going to sleep, there was one other problem. 

Anduin snuck away from the forest, towards the snowy field of buzzards and worms and death. He was hungry. Starving. He had little in rations, he wanted more. The dragon within him called, begged, to hunt, to eat something other then dry tasteless rations. It wouldn’t be enough to ease his growling stomach. 

But Anduin didn’t want to hunt. He didn’t want to kill anything. The human within him couldn’t stand the idea of eating anything he saw, not the worms, nor the buzzards, nor - light forbid- any of the remains they fought over. The human within him wanted to eat the ration, sleep, and hope Alexstrasza could help with his hunger later. 

He growled, hidden in the bushes, eyes gazing across the opening for an answer to his dragonoid needs. 

In the distance, he saw, was a campfire. Small tents set up around it, and the distant smell of meat. 

Anduin darted off, quick in his steps, the human within him giving up on fighting the urges. 

As he got closer, he noticed that he wasn’t the only one around who’d noticed the meat beside the campfire. Buzzards flew around in the sky, some diving down in an attempt to steal it. 

“H-HEY!” 

Anduin froze as he heard yelling, his heart leaping. He looked over to see one of the travelers appear from their tent, screaming at the buzzards. 

“FUCK OFF!” 

Anduin saw the buzzards fight back with the man, and as they dragged his attention away from the meat, Anduin saw this was his chance to steal food. 

As wrong as it was, his hunger grew, the smell so...amazing. His mouth filled with saliva. He would only take some of it, he wouldn’t starve the travelers, if that made his human side happy. 

“YOU CAN’T HAVE ANY!” 

Anduin shot off into the camp, finding a large slab of meat, probably from the mammoth looking creatures, cooking beside the fire. Anduin grabbed onto the meat, pulling back to pull himself a part of it. He struggled, twisting his head to ease the process. After a bit of struggling, he pulled off a part of the meal, a chunk twice the size of his own head, and without a second thought, dashed back off towards the forest. 

“HEY! COME BACK HERE!”

The travelers’ screams grew distant.

Anduin was near out of breath by the time he made it back to his burrow, and he curled up within it, dragging the meat with him. As he sat beside it, biting and chewing down at it, he realized he’d taken a piece much larger than he intended to. There was no way he could eat all of that.

It was too late to go back, he shrugged, and continued to devour the meat. 

By the time he was full, he’d eaten away half of the piece, juices from the meat covered his mouth. His eyes could hold open no longer, and too tired to clean up or hide away the food, he dropped his head against the edge of his burrow and fell asleep. 

-...-

“Anduin…”

A voice, soft and motherly, called to him. 

“Anduin, my dear…”

Anduin yawned, blinking his eyes awake. He felt warmth and comfort, though his surroundings were too dark to give away where he was. 

“I love you, my dear Anduin…”

Anduin felt the arms of a figure holding him, and to his curiosity, he looked up. What felt as a comforting, motherly hold, was given to him by a woman with long black hair, ruby eyes, and curled horns. 

Onyxia. 

Anduin’s heart quickened in pace, and he jumped out of her hold, backing away, despite the growing cold. 

“Anduin, my son, where are you going?” She called to him. 

“I AM NOT YOUR SON!” Anduin yelled at her and she stood up. 

“You don’t get to pick and choose whose blood runs through your veins, child.” Onyxia frowned.

“I am human!” Anduin shook his head. “I’ve ONLY EVER BEEN HUMAN!”

“It’s okay, sweet child, I don’t expect you to come to terms with this so quickly.” Onyxia sighed, stepping forward. 

“Don’t touch me!” Anduin growled, his eyes glowing as though he were completely dragon. 

“I can see the dragon within you.” She smiled. “I can hear it in your voice. It elevates your anger, it fights with your humanoid wants and desires.”

“LEAVE ME ALONE!” He screamed at her as she stepped closer, his teeth bared. 

“Let go, Anduin,” She said, reaching out to caress his chin. “As the last of my brood, and last of our kind, there is great pressure on you, i’m sure. But you are most deserving of this power.”

Anduin slapped her hand away from him, stepping back from her. He searched her eyes, her face and body, for meaning to her statement. He was not the last of “our” kind, not as long as Wrathion lived, and what powers did she even talk about? Was this her plan? To torture him from the grave?

“Give in to the whispers.”

An echo in her voice, of much deeper, darker origin, made Anduin’s blood run cold and his anger disappear. 

Wrathion had avoided the whispers, was proud of it, but could the same be said for himself?

The darkness seemed to move, dance, around him. His eyes glanced nervously around, fear and thought consuming him. 

A voice, a memory, echoed from the distance, as the woman in front of him held her smirk. 

“A blond human prince with power in the light has fallen to the whispers before, betrayed the love of his people, ” the growl of an orc prisoner, long since a memory, returned. “What makes you any different?”

Garroshs’ words had bothered Anduin, true, but he’d long since gotten over it. So he thought. 

“I AM NOT ARTHAS!” Anduin screamed, only to get Onyxia’s chuckle in response

“No one ever said you were.”

A new voice. Anduin turned around to see a new figure. A taller male, with dark, red, glowing eyes, and black hair, and large horns, and metal bolted to his face and form. 

“You,” Onyxia walked up behind him, placing her hands around his shoulders, “can be better.”

Anduin looked down at her hands, her red nails tapping at his chest. 

He felt frozen in place as the darkness surrounded him, tugging and pulling at his chest. It felt difficult to breath. 

He remembered the abuse, from Onyxia. Memories that she had removed from his head, somehow now returned. 

She’d locked him away, ignore his cries. She’d starve him, force him to get sick, hit and kick and take her anger out on him. She’d yell and scream and verbally abuse him, humiliate him in front of the nobles, even his own mind-controlled father. Bolvar. 

And then one day she would stop.

His memories didn’t tell him why. 

He remembered her whelplings, and how they chased him through her hot, volcanic lair. How they tried to eat him alive. He’d still have scars from them gnawing at his limbs even years later. 

There was no way he was one of them, not when she’d leave him to be their food. 

He remembered the years of being compared to Arthas, how it all angered him. 

What an awful thing to tell him. 

He remembered his father’s abuse, and how the man’s anger scared him. How his strength could so easily be used against him. 

He remembered Wrathion. 

Wrathion was so determined to be the last. 

‘Would he kill me?’

Anduin felt himself drowning in fears and sorrows and memories from the past. So much emotion, yet he couldn’t let it all out, for the arms around him squeezed at him. 

The madness was far too much for him to stand. 

-...-

The whelp awoke in a panic, his head raising too fast, hitting the top of his burrow. Snow fell atop of him and the meal to his side. In his panic he started clawing at the snow, quickly making his way out of the burrow before it collapsed any farther. 

Shaking himself, snow falling off his body, he took in his surroundings to remember where he was. The edge of a forest, snow everywhere, and the distant harp of harpies. It was daylight, and by the location of the sun, somewhere late morning. 

His stomach growled and a nauseousness overcame him, his body shivering. The poor whelp couldn’t stop himself from throwing up into the snow. 

Anduin continued to throw up little bits of chewed meat and liquids that were probably a mix of all kinds of things. It looked disgusting, the taste even more so. When he was sure he was finished, he cleaned his mouth by eating snow, far from the site he’d thrown up at.

His body felt so weak.

He couldn’t rest anymore, though, and with the best of his ability, he took off into the sky, determined to make it to Wyrmrest Temple. 

-...-

“This is troubling news.” 

The Dragon Queen frowned, glancing to the bronze dragon, Chromie, standing beside her. 

“Which is why I’ve come to warn you as soon as possible.”

Standing before the queen, as well as her allies, was a raven. 

“We must start preparing for war.” Kalecgos sighed. “I had hoped we’d have more time to recover from the Cataclysm.”

“We will do what we can.” Alexstrasza said, looking down to the raven. “I thank you for your warning.”

“I do what I must for Azeroth.” It replied. 

“I suppose you have many others to warn, Khadgar.” Kalecgos said. 

“That I d-”

“MY QUEEN!”

The group paused, turning to look past the raven. 

Many of Alexstrasza’s brood surrounded the tower, caring and protective of their mother, and the voice of one called out to warn her. The Queen heard growling, and realized that the dragons that surrounded her and the temple were growling at a newcomer, showing hostility in their body language. Some, she could feel, were distressed. 

The raven hopped closer to the queen as the being in question, a small whelp, landed clumsily onto the tower. It appeared weak and tired and unbalanced. 

“I will leave you to this, Life-Binder.” The raven turned to nod.

“Thank you.”

The raven flew away. 

The hostility in the air grew, and the dragons watched the whelp walk a few steps towards the queen before halting. Then the poor thing puked, it’s last meal decorating the temple’s marble floor. The poor thing seemed sick. 

“It’s an-” Kalecgos hesitated, “-an onyxian whelp?”

“Onyxian?” Chromie repeated. 

Alexstrasza watched as the whelp stumbled forward, only to stop in the center of the platform. It bowed its head to the queen, while it’s body still shook from the puking. It may have also shook in fear from the hostility her brood were expressing. 

Something was wrong.

“Who are you?” The queen asked, her voice loud and clear. As she stepped forward, the other two watched her, and her brood calmed down in their hissing and glares. 

The whelp, slowly, took the crystal around it’s neck into it’s mouth. It relaxed, as much as it could, breathed in, and a pink glow overtook it’s being. When the glow subsided, the whelpling was in it’s humanoid form. 

A form that looked oddly familiar. 

“Life-Binder, I seek your aid.” The whelp spoke, his voice shaking as he knelt before her. 

“Your name?” She asked again. 

The whelp, with his dull red eyes, looked up to meet her gaze. 

“A-Anduin. Anduin Llane Wrynn.” 

There seemed to be a silence, the queen glancing to the two humanoid dragons to her side. Chromie and Kalecgos seemed just as confused. 

“Prince Anduin Wrynn of Stormwind?” She asked. 

“I-I, uh, y-yes.” He nodded. “I need your help. I think, think Onyxia has done something to me. Made me...made me like her. I don’t know what's going on.” 

Alexstrasza took in his appearance, noting the curled horns, the burns, the necklace, the dull red eyes.

Before she could say anything, however, the boy gasped out in pain, grabbing at himself, the crystal glowing in response. He was forced back into his whelpling form, to which he then threw up again. 

“He can’t control his powers.” Kalecgos said, looking to the Queen. 

Alexstrasza frowned. 

“Kalecgos, Chromie, please start preparation for war against the Legion. “ She spoke. “I will join you as soon as I tend to our guest.”

The two nodded. As they left, the queen walked towards the whelpling, recovering from his own sickness. She knelt down, placing her hand on his back, rubbing at the scales, noticing how he was missing a few. 

“Do not worry, young one.” She spoke. “I will take care of you now.”

Anduin felt himself purr, but his head was so dizzy, and body so sick, that he couldn’t properly reply. He tried to lean into her hand, but found himself falling into darkness instead. 

The Queen picked up the unconscious whelpling, carrying him off to a better place to rest and recover. 

-...-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in time for New Years! Thank you for all the support! I hope this story doesn't feel too rushed, This story has broken through my writer's block and I'm really happy for it. I hope you all continue to stay with me as the story progresses. :D
> 
> Please leave behind comments, thoughts, ideas, etc, as they are the best motivation a writer can get! <3


	6. Vale of Eternal Past

-...-

“Northrend?”

“Aye, my prince, Northrend.”

Wrathion frowned. In the span of an afternoon, it seemed, the location of the whelpling had gone from somewhere near Westfall to an entirely different continent. How his blacktalon hadn’t been able to follow him was beyond him, but that was also ignoring the fact that his blacktalon force was nowhere near as strong as it was back when he lived in Pandaria. Lives were lost, there were some who left when it seemed their leader favored the Alliance, despite their claims to neutrality.

The young elf spy who brought him this news awaited any further orders, Wrathion sighing and debating on what to do.

He’d also heard that there was a possibility that Anduin resided in Westfall from one of his blacktalon overhearing a cry for help from Sentinel Hill to the King. A light-wielder of the same looks had burnt down their food supply, which didn’t seem like Anduin, but the witness was a credible source. He’d planned on checking that out himself, but….

“Return to your station in Dalaran.” Wrathion told the elf, who nodded and left.

Wrathion then turned to address Left and Right, but remembered that they were not there. He’d sent them off to find leads, and they had yet to return with anything. He sighed, playing with the blood gem on his ring.

“Right, Left.” He didn’t need to say aloud, the gem working as intended.

“My prince?” Left was first to reply with the gem, Right to follow.

“I will be in Northrend should I be needed. Take a deeper look at Westfall in the meantime."

-...-

The dragon queen heard a soft knock at her door.

“Come in, please.” She called, waiting patiently within her private room inside Wyrmrest Temple.

The door to the dimly lit room opened, and a short woman with horns on her head walked in. Her dress was long yet very similar in style to her queen’s leather set. The woman bowed her head and stood in front of the closed door.

Alexstrasza paused before addressing the other red dragon, glancing at the makeshift nest of bedding and pillows in the corner of the room. Inside, still fast asleep, was the onyxian whelpling. As the room settled in silence, his muffled snores could be heard.

Good, he was still sleeping. Or, at least, doing a decent job at pretending. It didn’t really matter if he heard, the queen thought, but preferably he didn’t.

She turned to the woman and nodded.

“You’ve found information, I hope.” The queen spoke.

“Of course, mother.” The woman nodded. “Surprisingly, it wasn’t that hard to find background on the prince.”

“Please, inform me.”

The woman cleared her throat. She’d been sent out to retrieve as much information on Prince Anduin Wrynn as she could. Alexstrazsa knew something about the boy, having met and heard his testimony at Garrosh’s trial, but the dragon queen wanted to be sure.

“The prince was born 17 years and 350 days ago to the royal family of Stormwind, the last remaining human kingdom. His birth parents are the High King Varian Wrynn and his late wife, Queen Tiffin Ellerian Wrynn. Three months after his birth, his mother was killed in a riot, caused by both the failure to pay the city’s stonemasons as well as Onyxia’s influence. After this event, the prince’s care relied heavily on Onyxia and Bolvar Fordragon, a high ranking general who later became an unofficial and uncrowned king of Stormwind for a period of time.”

The queen frowned. “His father could not care for him….?”

“It is human tradition, I think, that the children born to royal families are cared for by their mothers as well as paid staff, more often than not. A common human phrase is that it takes a town to raise a child.” The woman paused. “That said, his father had fallen both to depression and to Onyxia’s control.”

The dragon queen was not familiar with the way human kingdoms were run, and she herself tried her hardest to care for her own whelps as long as they needed it, even through her darkest moments. She thought,though, that she couldn’t judge, as his father ruled one of the two largest factions on the planet and that alone would be difficult work. Adding in the recent passing of a loved one, Onyxia’s tricks, as well as a three month old baby, and you had too much to bare and still stay sane.

“Continue on.”

“Onyxia planned to take over Stormwind, and in her time in the city she managed to lead the king away from his throne. Proper information on how she completed these tasks were difficult to find, not all knowledge on the subject is public. At a few years of age, Anduin Wrynn was given the title of king, if not only for show, and proper power was handed to Bolvar Fordragon. They ruled for years until Varian returned, though this Varian was only half of himself.”

Alexstrazsa nodded, “Yes, I have heard this story. Onyxia split him in two, and one became a gladiator.”

Most people knew this part of the story, it was something that almost sounded made up if there hadn’t been so many witnesses to Lo’Gosh’s existence.

“Then I assume you know of the prince’s time with Onyxia before her death?”

“I know he was kidnapped.”

“In a fit of rage she had her whelps feast upon the prince, however I’ve found no evidence major harm was done to him.”

Alexstrasza frowned, knowing that a horde of whelps attempting to eat you must have been terrifying. She knew of the prince’s trauma in relation to Garrosh, but never gave much thought to the trauma Onyxia caused him. How he continued to be so bright and positive was truly magic.

“Did you find any evidence of Onyxia tampering with his being?” Alexstrazsa asked.

“No, my queen.” The woman shook her head. “After Onyxia’s death, Anduin returned to stand as crown prince, and eventually would seek to study in the path of the light.”

Alexstrasza knew vaguely the rest of the story, overhearing from talking at Garrosh’s trial. The boy sought to learn under the Light, with aid from Prophet Velen. At some point he’d ended up on a crashed boat on the shores of Pandaria.

“Could you do one more thing for me.” The Queen asked the younger dragon.

“Yes, mother.” She dipped her head.

“Seek out Chromie, please. Ask her to investigate the prince’s past. Inform her about his current situation.” The queen ordered. There had to be something deeper that they’d missed. Something in his past that wasn’t recorded.

“Of course, mother.”

Alexstrasza smiled. “That is all.”

The woman bowed in goodbye, then turned to leave the room.

With the woman gone, Alexstrazsa turned back to look at the sleeping whelp. Yet, to her surprise, the whelp was not sleeping anymore. He was still curled up in the nest, but he was watching her intently. The Queen noticed him glance away when they met eyes.

“How do you feel?” The queen asked.

The whelp didn’t respond at first, as if thinking about his reply. Then the whelp shook itself out of the nest, jumping out and then using the crystal to transform into humanoid form. Anduin Wrynn, with his hair in a ponytail, and curled horns on his head, and dim dull red eyes, and a burn scar on his neck, stood there in the whelp’s place.

He looked like he was about to spill out his thoughts, his chest rising and falling quickly, his eyes going glossy, but before Alexstrasza could say any more the boy took a few deep breaths to steady himself. The Queen saw light come to the boy’s aid, a sparkle in his hands as he used it to hold back his anxiety.

Alexstrasza figured the prince may want a moment to gather his thoughts, so she motioned for him to sit at a small table to the side of the room, beside a window covered by cloth.

“Please, take your time.” She spoke. “I can get you some tea to help settle your stomach.”

Anduin quietly thanked her, remembering the puking he’d done when he arrived. He wondered if it was what he ate the night before, and if so he hoped that the hunters who’d caught the food were okay. It was also possible that his illness was caused by the dip in temperature, or his mental stability at the moment. Anxiety and stress often caused sickness.

Anduin walked over and sat down at the small table, noticing red flowers in a small vase set against the stone wall. He watched the dragon queen walk out of the room, then he turned his attention to the window. He peeked around the curtains, blinded by the light bouncing off the snow below. He was pretty high up in the tower, and it was definitely still day, but what time Anduin wasn’t quite sure.

He’d blanked out at some point, and only realized this when the queen had returned, two mugs of hot tea in hand, placing them on the table as she sat across from them. Anduin thanked her, enjoying the steam rise up past his face, the smell amazing.

“If there is anything else I can get you, please do not be afraid to ask.” The queen said as she watched the prince take a sip of tea. “I would provide food, however I do not wish to test your illness yet.”

“W-what is this?” Anduin asked, referring to the tea. It tasted nice, though the after taste was a bit strange.

“It is Goldclover. Native to Northrend and what I had supplied here. It has a few healing properties, but you may not notice for a while. It calms your stomach as well as mellows mental stress.”

“Thank you.”

Anduin waited to see if the queen would take a sip of her own tea, but she seemed to show no interest in the cup once it was placed down. Funny enough, Anduin was trained to see this small action as a warning sign to not drink his own tea, but Anduin trusted the Dragon Queen with his life, despite how little he really knew her.

“I’ve done some research of my own since you rested, though I am interested in hearing how you came here.” The queen spoke.

“Right,” Anduin gulped, taking another sip of tea before starting.

“A hunter and mage appeared before my father, claimed they sensed a dragon in our city, a dragon that wasn’t Wrathion. They had a plan to find them, and the mage created a rune that would force the dragon out of hiding.” Anduin said. “I...I was curious, that was all, when I stood on it. But then I felt pain, and then the next moment ...moment I was a whelp.”

Anduin remembered the pain, the sheer horror and fear he felt. He looked up from his tea to meet the eyes of the queen.

“I couldn’t talk to them, they didn’t understand me. When they did, they didn’t believe me.”

“Believe that you are who you say you are?”

Anduin nodded. “I ...am I the dragon that they sensed? But I’m not...i’m not supposed to be a dragon. I’m so confused and tired and….and…”

“It is a good thing you have come to me, young prince.” Alexstrasza said. “While I am still looking to prove my idea, I have theories..”

“What...what kind of theories..?” Anduin asked, leaning slightly in his chair.

“The rune caused something within you to...say, wake up. The pain you feel, the changes in appearance, are all side effects. Your human body does not want whatever this is, it is fighting back.” She answered after hesitation.

Anduin frowned, staring down at the table as he thought about this information.

So if Alexstrasza was right, this wasn’t a trick played on him? Or maybe it was? But then someone would have needed to use more than just a rune, right? This wasn’t an illusion spell and likely wasn’t the fault of the hunter and the mage. The implications of this were troubling. What was inside him that “woke up”? Was he born with it? His parents had to know if something affected his birth, right? His father would remember something…wouldn’t he? Was his mother, Tiffin, not actually human and just never told Varian? Or...or was Tiffin actually his mother at all? Onyxia had been around his parents long before he was born, was it possible she cursed him?

He had no idea, and thinking about it more just caused him more confusion.

“The crystal around your neck. Where did you get that?” The queen asked.

“O-oh,” Anduin held the crystal in his hands, holding it up slightly. “I...I escaped from Stormwind with help and stayed in Westfall for a few days. I met a mage there, who gave it to me. It helped me talk to others, to change forms.”

Alexstrasza reached out gently to look at the crystal, Anduin letting her hold it for a few moments.

“It’s pretty unstable, though. I was wondering, if, maybe, you could help me...not need it?”

Alexstrasza let go of the crystal, readjusting in her chair.

“I believe I can help you, yes.” She said, “But I cannot promise everything, unfortunately. I have...never seen a case like this.”

There seemed to be hope in his heart, but his face looked slightly disappointed. Alexstrasza wanted to tell him she could fix everything, but that would be a lie. Now, really, their priority needed to be Anduin’s illness as well as getting him on better grounds with his father.

“I’ve sought out Chromie, of the bronze dragonflight.” The Queen spoke. “I’m hoping a quick look into your past may bring answers, but it would be best to operate under the idea she won’t find anything.”

Anduin sighed, unsure what that would bring, as he himself didn’t remember anything big. But, it was possible, that he’d blocked a memory, or there was something important he wasn’t around for. He wrapped his fingers around the warm cup of tea, though he did not take any more sips.

“Until we hear from her, I believe we can start working on your biggest problems in control.” She continued. “You could use some flying lessons, and I can look into teaching you to speak draconic, though that may be best focused on later.”

“Draconic?” Anduin felt a bit of excitement. He’d always thought it was a pretty language, despite Wrathion explaining that teaching mortals was near impossible. Did this dragon form allow him access to the language now??

“But first of all, you need rest. Your body has been in constant stress sense discovering the draconic powers, it may ease your pain and sickness to rest for awhile.”

Anduin sighed, but nodded in understanding. “Yes, of course.

He paused for a second, however, as a question appeared in his mind.

“Am...am I…” He paused again to rethink his words. “If this isn’t temporary, these draconic powers, what am I?”

Alexstrasza was taken back for a second, unsure of how to answer.

“That is not something I can confidently answer, young prince.”

“Am I part of the black dragonflight?” Anduin asked.

“You were not born into it.”

“But you don’t have to be born into a family to be part of it.” Anduin spoke, thinking back on Valeera, who was basically a Wrynn at this point save for the name. She had always felt like an older sister to him, and he wondered for a moment how she was. Probably freaking out, searching for him.

“That is true.” Alexstrasza nodded.

Anduin then frowned. “If I have their powers, what about...about the corruption?”

The Black Dragonflight was infamous for their inability to properly block out whispers of old gods. It was their weakness and it nearly destroyed their entire flight. Nearly tore apart the world. Alexstrasza always felt worried for the surviving members of the flight in that regard.

“I already know what the whispers sound like..” Anduin spoke, then realized he should explain himself before the queen freaked out. “I’m a priest! All priests have some experience with the whispers.”

Anduin dared not to mention how he’d used shadow magic before. He liked to think himself above it, but he didn’t have the track record to prove it.

“Should you feel their whispers too much…” Alexstrasza felt worry in her heart as she looked at the prince. “I plead that you seek my aid. I…”

Anduin looked away from her worried eyes, back to his tea.

“I do not wish to see you fall like Neltharion.”

-...-

After Anduin had rest, and his stomach settled, the first thing that needed addressing, it seemed, was his flying.

Watching the whelp attempt to fly on his own made the queen laugh. She commented on his wobbly self, how she’d seen more stable flying in whelps still in their unhatched eggs. That said, she would continue, it was impressive Anduin managed to escape griffons and fly through the cold air. Anduin had determination and he proved it over and over.

“I have an idea, should you entertain it.” The Queen smiled, watching the whelp land from a rather tiresome time spent just flapping his wings in place. Staying in the same place while moving your entire body was really difficult.

“Of course.” Anduin’s red eyes looked up to the queen, in her humanoid form still towering above him, ready to move on to the next phase of the lesson.

“It’s a bit too cold here in Northrend to properly train a newbie.” The Queen said, and then turned to conger up a portal, the magic a strong red, sparking against the snow surrounding them. She then looked back to the whelp. “Follow me.”

Alexstrasza jumped into the portal, disappearing into the red swirls, the spirals reacting to her action. Anduin paused, but then jumped in after her.

What he found, on the other side of the portal, was air.

Quickly, he realized, he was falling from the sky.

Anduin panicked, no time to react with a calm mind, doing the first thing to come to mind while he eyed the ground below. He flapped his wings harder than ever.

But he was still falling.

Shit shit shit shit why wasn’t he flying, he was doing what he remembered to, and maybe it was slowed, but he wasn’t getting any higher.

Below him, lush greens and beautiful forests, and Anduin realized it was the Jade Forest below him, and bitter sweetly the place he would probably die due to fall damage.

“I’ve got you!”

The sound of larger, louder wings beating at the air and Anduin felt Alexstrasza catch him by the scruff of his neck. She pulled him from his fall like a mother cat carrying her kittens. She radiated a calm aura that helped to lower Anduin’s heart rate while she found a place to land.

Anduin clung to the soft grassy ground with his claws digging into the dirt, literally. Alexstrasza, in dragon form, stood beside him, watching the whelp as he shook in fear.

“Forgive me, young one.” The queen dipped her head. “It was mean for me to do that.”

Anduin rubbed himself against the ground, the scent of the dirt and bugs and plant-life calming him. It was an odd thing, getting himself all dirty, but he had instincts that were not totally human appear within the last few days that he didn’t think to question. After a minute of regaining his composure, and his trust, he took a deep breath and looked up to the older dragon.

“Why Pandaria?” He asked.

The Queen lifted herself into the air, motioning for him to follow. “Come.”

Anduin leaped into the air, wobbling a bit, but got into a rhythm, concentrating on following the dragon queen. They flew through the air, high above the forest, headed west, inland.

Anduin hadn’t been in Pandaria since Garroshs’ trial. He’d always wanted to return under a more peaceful time period, yet never did. I guess, he thought, this moment was better than never.  
It was odd, though, being back. It brought back mixed feelings. Memories. Garroshs’ trial ended with the pandaren taking Garrosh into their custody, against the wishes of both factions, and nobody has seen or heard from the orc since. Anduin loved Pandaria, but it bothered him that somewhere, unknown to him, the orc existed and continued to live here. Anduin wanted to be far far away from Garrosh, remembering the near death, remembering the attempt to dismember, remembering the yelling and threats. At the time Anduin believed there to be good somewhere in the orc, but time proved him wrong.

Garrosh only ever wanted Anduin dead, only ever entertained Anduin for his own amusement, and was serious in his threats against Stormwind and making him wish he’d been miscarried.

Then there was Garrosh comparing Anduin to Arthas.

His words still stung. A lot.

Anduin huffed, realizing he’d slowly fallen behind and started picking up his speed to catch up with Alexstrasza.

He wondered how she was doing. Besides himself, Alexstrasza was also badly hurt by Garrosh. By Garrosh’s Horde. There were things done to her that Anduin hardly understood, and he would take being crushed under a bell anyday compared to them. At the trail, the queen spoke of forgiveness, as did he, and she too risked the nasty looks the others gave her. Anduin, at the time, connected with her on that, and he liked to think he still felt that connection.

There was something about the cool, calming breeze and the big open space, and flying while safe and cared for, that made the whelp feel calm and even slightly more confident in his skills.

Pandaria wasn’t all bad memories either. He learned so much about the land and about chi and monks and sha and he met so many kind people. He saw so many beautiful places. He met his best friend here.

Wrathion.

The thought of him risked Anduin’s calm mind, but he tried to stay on top of it. Wrathion meant well, and had always cared for Anduin. Anduin was the first, and really the only person, to ever give trust to him, to give him a chance. At the time, many feared that he would fall like Deathwing, the Cataclysm still fresh in the minds of all Azerothians. Anduin didn’t think judging a son of their father’s actions was credible, and so took the step to befriend him.

His feelings were always all over the place on Wrathion, but Anduin couldn’t imagine a life without the whelp.

Anduin frowned in his thoughts. He’d always seen Wrathion as his only real friend, one not forced upon by politics or by birthplace, and he cherished that. But he had...other feelings, ones he had a difficult time ignoring.

Now was not a good time to explore those feelings.

Anduin was shaken from his thoughts when he felt the Queen’s tail nudge him. He realized he’d sort’ve been on autopilot, and that they’d flown over tall mountains into the Vale of Eternal Blossoms.

The Vale of Eternal Blossoms.

Anduin nearly lost his breath, realizing that he could see it all, and that it had been cleansed of sha.

“Wha-?” He flew in place, turning to see the Queen watching his reaction.

“They completed restoration a few weeks ago.” The Queen answered. “All of Pandaria has been in celebration. I wanted to see it. I thought you may enjoy the trip as well.”

Anduin couldn’t find words, tears in his eyes. He’d felt so bad when the Vale was destroyed, ,and felt partly responsible for it due to his involvement in bringing the Horde and Alliance to the continent. A beauty unlike any other was lost, and Anduin wasn’t even sure restoration was possible. But the Pandaren are determined people, and it seemed that they worked day and night since the end of the trial to fix what was wronged.

Anduin followed Alexstrasza down to one of the villages. Anduin couldn’t remember the name, but it was the biggest village in the Vale, housing hundreds of Pandaren. It looked somewhat overpopulated, but Anduin guessed it was from having workers all over the continent help to restore the land. That, and it seemed celebration always brought in the crowd.

The two dragons landed just outside the entrance to the village, returning to humanoid forms. A few pandaren were approaching, seeking to greet them in. Immediately, Anduin recognized one in particular.

“Lorewalker Cho!”

The Pandaren grinned as he heard his name called, and bowed to the two once he reached them.

“A good time for visitors!” Cho smiled. “It has been so long since we’ve seen each other, young prince! You as well, Dragon Queen.”

“I hope we are not intruding.” The Queen dipped her head as well.

“Never!” The Lorewalker shook his head. “Both of you are welcomed sights! Please, come, follow me.”

The two dragons walked behind Cho as he led them into the village. Anduin smiled, watching the citizens work and play and go about their days, all while their architecture was covered in decorations and lights and colors. When the Pandaren celebrate something, they don’t play around.

“You are just in time for this week’s feast.” Cho spoke, “Every week since the completion of restoring the Vale, we have put together feasts to honor our hard workers. Tonight we will have all kind of food and drinks. I hope you will be staying.”

Anduin wanted to agree to it right away, but stopped himself from speaking just as his mouth opened. He glanced at Alexstrasza, who was glancing at him. She laughed and nodded.

“Of course we will stay.” She agreed and Anduin grinned. “Both of us are in need of the atmosphere.”

“Good, good!” Cho replied. “Let me find you a place to stay and if you would like, I can show you around.”

“I would love that.” Anduin didn’t wait for permission from the elder dragon.

-...-

The party started as the sun began to set, and only grew in size and strength as the night sky glowed overhead. Leaving the hut he and Alexstrasza were given, Anduin made his way through the crowds to check out the scene. Lights and decorations everywhere, the smell of food and booze soaked into the air. Laughter and singing and voices of all volumes were heard everywhere, and honestly the place was sensory overload.

It was wonderful.

Far too wonderful. The boy felt so overwhelmed with so much to see and do, and everyone seemed to want to say hello to him the moment they saw him. It was all a perfect escape from life outside of the Vale. An escape from his mental breakdown, and from his home, from his troubles.

Anduin felt his stomach rumble, and decided the first place he would seekout was the food hall.

It wasn’t hard finding all of the food, all he had to do was follow party. In one large hut, a long table was set out with food piled high on top of it. Candy, red bean buns, noodles, honey tarts, everything was up there. Anduin found it difficult to squeeze past the crowd to get a plate, and instead quickly reverted into whelp form to snag two or three red bean buns, and maybe some of the handmade candy- He accidentally dropped the candy, and left the hut deciding he should probably not take more than he could carry.

Returning to humanoid form, Anduin walked around the village stuffing the buns in his face. He watched cubs run around and play a game with some multicolored inflatable balls, standing to the side as adults cheered for their own cub. Anduin cheered on one of the smallest cubs who was running behind the others. By the end of the game, the young cub only had the ball once, but he was just as happy that his team won, and Anduin was happy for that.

Anduin found one of the cubs pulling him over to play another round, and he joyfully did his best. He wasn’t very good at it until he took his whelp form, and while his team still lost, he gained almost enough points to tie. By the end of the game, all of the cubs were around him, petting him and cheering and laughing.

Anduin returned to the food to take a few more buns, and this time took a drink from one of the drink tables. He escaped the crowds then by turning into a whelp to fly up onto one of the highest roofs in the village. He sat in his humanoid form with his legs dangling off the edge, eating his food while watching the night sky. He took a sip from his drink, only to realize it was alcohol. Not that it was a bad thing, it tasted pretty good, and so he continued to take a few sips from it to ease whatever anxieties still haunted the back of his mind.

Not long after he settled down onto the roof, fireworks lit up the sky. The bright colors shined off the roof tiles, and the loud booms echoed off the buildings. It was all so beautiful.

He thought, for a millisecond, that Wrathion would’ve loved to be here and see this. To indulge in the celebration. He always felt at home in Pandaria, always loved their traditions, their booze. Liked to complain that Stormwind’s local ale was nothing compared to the entire continent of Pandaria.

He wondered, taking another sip from the drink, if Wrathion knew about the restoration of the Vale.

Anduin placed the drink down, but then let out a small gasp when the drink tipped and spilled down the side of the roof.

Of course Wrathion knew about the Vale. He had to, he cared far too much about Pandaria to not know about what was going on there. He probably had blacktalons here.

That thought made Anduin feel nervous, and he cursed that his drink was gone prematurely.

Anduin continued eating the last of the buns he’d taken and then turned to whelp form, letting the smaller form help keep him warm against the cooler air of the night. He curled up against the roof and watched the last of the fireworks shoot off.

When the whelp next stood up, it was to yawn. He let out a big yawn, shaking his head as he decided that he may be a bit tired. He began to walk down the roof, however the slick tile caused the whelp to lose his balance. He struggled to correct himself, however he could not do it in time, and fell off the side of the roof. He tried to catch himself by flying, but he’d fallen upside down, and was not trained to fly upside down.

There was a big splash, and the whelp found himself submerged in liquid. A vile, burning liquid. More alcohol. In his panic, he opened his eyes, and regretted that immediately, as the booze burned his eyes. He tried to swim up, flapping his wings, crying out as the booze flooded his mouth.

A large, furry paw grabbed onto him, and pulled him from the large wooden barrel. All Anduin heard was laughter as he shook as much of the liquid off of him as possible, clearing his nose and mouth of what he could, blinking away the burn in his eyes.

Anduin found it difficult to see through the blurriness of tears, but what he could determine was that whoever grabbed him was taking him somewhere.

And, Anduin realized, he himself stunk. He reeked of booze. He wondered how much he’d accidentally consumed, and hoped that he’d not ruined the barrel.

Anduin was placed down on a solid surface, away from the howls of the party, and felt a towel against his scales. Whoever saved him was now cleaning him up, and Anduin battled with the discomfort when the towel rubbed into his eyes. It continued to burn. When he felt himself hiss slightly, the Pandaren left for a few moments only to return with water. He had the water drip into Anduin’s eyes to flush it out, and then allowed Anduin to drink down the rest of the water.

Anduin could see, finally, and looked up to see Lorewalker Cho sitting at the table he was placed down on.

“Quite the adventure you had, my friend.” Cho smiled.

“Thank you for saving me.” Anduin spoke, dropping down off the table to turn back into humanoid form.

“Actually,” Cho spoke, a drink in his hand, “I wanted to take the time to thank you, Prince Anduin.”

Anduin stood there in surprise, hesitating before asking why.

“For everything you did to help save Pandaria.” Cho answered with a smile.

Anduin frowned, feeling his nervousness return at full force. He’d thought about this already.

“What I did?” Anduin shook his head, his voice quiet. “I brought the Horde and Alliance to your shores, I brought the war here in the first place. Everything that hurt Pandaria in that time, it was all my fault.”

“Whaat?” Cho seemed taken back.

“The Vale wouldn’t have needed to be restored if I didn’t lead Garrosh here in the first place.” Anduin felt his arm shake, looking down at the ground as he ignored Cho’s stare.

“No, my friend, you are mistaken.” Cho spoke in a calming voice, sensing Anduin’s anxiousness. “You saved the world from the Sha with your sacrifice!”

“My...my what?”

“You did everything you could to stop the war from hurting our people, but you are only a child, and none of what adults do is your fault.” Cho explained. “Instead, you risked your life to discover a way to stop the Sha from spreading across the planet, and you succeeded.”

“I…”

“You placed your heart on a platter and were scarred deeply for it.” Cho raised his drink. “I wish to toast to you, Prince Anduin, for your brave actions all those years ago.”

Anduin didn’t really know what to say. He smiled weekly in return, but inside he felt conflicted.

He knew that he nearly lost his life to save the continent, but he knew he wasn’t the only one who risked their life. Many died.

It was just so easy to focus on all the wrong that happened, that Anduin found it difficult to really remember the good things. The good outcomes.

“Thank you, Lorewalker.” Anduin bowed, holding back tears in his eyes. “I’m, I’m going to go to bed now.”

Cho nodded, and Anduin swiftly turned around to leave.

-...-

Alexstrasza had turned in late, enjoying the mortal celebrations a lot. She, to her surprise, walked into the hut to find Anduin already there, the whites of his eyes red, reeking of booze.

Now, as the sounds of the party were distant, the dragon queen sat with her back against the wall, atop a bed of pillows, the young prince laying with his head on her lap much like a child would lay with his mother. He was restless, drunk, and never sure if he wanted the blanket on or off. Alexstrasza tried her best to calm him, watching over him as she ran her talons gently through his hair. The small act helped to stabilize him, and finally, after half an hour, he settled into the blanket.

The queen heard mumbles come from the boy, and she listened intently.

“..Mother....”

Alexstrasza paused, but then continued the soft brushing of his blond hair. She let him know through that simple motion that she was listening in.

“I miss my mother…” Anduin sighed, hands tucked under his head.

There was a short silence before the prince continued.

“I….it’s stupid, really, but I feel like she would have known.” Anduin said. “She would have known that I was telling the truth. People talk all the time about how...how mothers have special connections with their children...and I...I wish I knew what that was like.”

Anduin took in a deep breath.

“I get jealous sometimes...that I didn’t get to know her but everyone else knows their mothers. Or, that everyone else got to know my mother.” He said.

Anduin blinked away tears, but they broke through and silently dripped down his face onto the blanket below.

“I want to go home.” He choked out. “But I also don’t.”

Alexstrasza silently sent an aura of calming to the boy, in hopes it would aid him.

“I wish….wish that I could live a normal life. As a citizen, not a royal. As an adventurer who could...could stop and settle down any time I wanted.” He said. “That I...that father too, that we would never need to stress over politics again. We could live away from the big cities, in neutral territories, and pretend neither the Horde or Alliance existed.”

But Anduin never got this choice, and his father didn’t either. They were born royals, born with a job, a duty, and were forced to fulfill it. He often times felt like a slave, but hated even thinking that. Slaves didn’t live in castles, with personal chefs and maids.

He curled up into himself, feeling the light scratching of talons on his scalp. It felt so nice. Nice to have someone to lean on, to cry on. It was slightly embarrassing, he didn’t know Alexstrasza that well, but she radiated motherly energy. He always felt like he could trust her.

He let out a yawn and felt sleep pull at his chest.

Alexstrasza watched as the prince slowly fell asleep. She continued to comfort him, thinking back onto what he said, and knowing that she would do what she could for him. He clearly hurt, hurt more than what he sought help for.

There were deep scars that had not healed that were formed long before he’d discovered his draconic powers.

It was a shame that as a royal, Anduin was taught to bury what hurt him to keep face.

Alexstrasza needed to return back to Northrend to continue Anduin’s training, but one more day in Pandaria wouldn’t hurt. It did good for both of them.

As the party continued, the two dragons fell asleep within their hut, safe within the protection of celestial eyes.

-...-

-...-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long wait, my writers block is all over the place. This chapter actually needed to be cut in half for me to be able to write it. There will be more of the two in the next chapter! :D
> 
> Anyway, Thank you all for the support! Your comments are the best motivation and I love hearing what you think of my story, or your theories for whats in store. <3 <3


	7. Yorir Creolnali Z'ar

-...-

Learning draconic was not easy. 

In fact, as both Anduin and Alexstrasza found, the whelp/human prince found it to be just as gibberish as he did when Wrathion proved to him he couldn’t learn it. 

Anduin sat there disappointed, hoping to be at least able to say something. He could understand a word or two, but there was no way in hell he could properly pronounce words. He couldn’t even properly roll his Rs sometimes, there were ways of saying things in draconic that just were not going to happen through a human’s vocal cords. 

Alexstrasza frowned. The best way to teach someone draconic was through the same way everything else was taught. Through time, the same way babies learned their mother tongue. Alexstrasza talked to her own whelps in draconic and eventually they learned, though it may have helped that dragons were born intelligent. 

Anduin, to put it politely, was not born intelligent. Not in the same way. 

“There is a spell that could help, but it is risky to use on a mortal” She thought aloud, Anduin perking up to her words. 

“What is it?” Anduin asked, hopeful. 

“There is a spell that aids in dragons who may have...lost memories, specifically in forgetting muscle memories or languages or simple skills.”

“But I never knew draconic to begin with.”

“It doesn’t work the same way as regaining a memory, more so that it inputs memories it thinks you had, based on who you are.” Alexstrasza said, slowly, thinking about how she wanted to go about this. She had a book in her hand, gazing across the pages, flipping through it. 

Anduin felt a bit put off by that statement. “This feels like it could easily go wrong.”

“Indeed.” Alexstrasza nodded in agreement. “But I’ve never seen it go wrong.”

“I’m not the average dragon, am I.” Anduin added. 

“Which is something to keep in mind.” The Queen said and closed the book. “But my hopes are that it locks onto your dragon powers and realizes you don’t know draconic. It may also help in your flying.”

“What if it locks onto my human….humanness?”

“It shouldn’t.” Alexstrasza answered, then gave a sympathetic smile. “It was written for dragons.”

“Somehow that doesn’t make me feel any better…” Anduin murmured. 

“Which is why this is your choice. I am more than prepared to perform the spell, but it is up to you to want to have it performed.” 

Anduin opened his mouth to respond, but said nothing. He didn’t need to know draconic, but the idea of it excited him. Even if these dragon powers were temporary, he liked the idea of being able to walk away with at least knowing what Wrathion was saying when he spoke draconic words. It’d be funny, he thought, if he never told Wrathion. It’d also be sorta mean. 

Anduin also wanted to know draconic for another reason, that was ever since he arrived to Wrymrest Temple he could hear the other dragons and whelps who lived here talking. They gave him glances and glares and he swore he heard his name once or twice. I mean, it was obvious they were going to talk about him, but he wondered what they said. Did they know why he was here? Did they believe him? 

Anduin remembered asking Alexstrasza not long after they returned from Pandaria what the other dragons were saying about him. The Queen told him not to worry about what others think. But what others think was the entire reason he was here. His father and friends thought him to be an evil corrupted offspring of Onyxia. He came to Alexstrasza to help get them to think differently. 

The spell itself wasn’t just important for learning draconic, though. It would help him in his flying. It could help him harness his draconic powers. Help him feel more stable. And if it targeted his humanness? What, would it make his memory better? Heal the bones broken by Garrosh? Maybe teach him how to wield a sword? 

Yea, there was a small chance something bad could happen, but Anduin liked his odds. He’d always been a risk taker, and the benefits seemed too good to miss. 

“I would like to go through with the spell.” Anduin said.

Alexstrasza smiled and nodded, beginning preparations for the spell. She motioned for the prince to follow her, and the two left the warm inside rooms of the tower, up stairs, into the open top area. The cold air and wind caused Anduin to curl into his clothing, jealous that it seemed the Queen was not affected. He remembered that he sometimes felt warmer in his whelp form, but wasn’t sure how the spell would be implemented and didn’t want to do anything until told to.

Anduin watched as the Queen called down two other dragons, two of her brood, and sought their assistance with the spell. They spoke in draconic, Anduin feeling awkward standing a few feet away. When the Queen appeared finished in her explanations, Anduin jumped in to ask her a question.

“How does the spell work?” Anduin asked. “I mean, you explained what it does, but…”

Alexstrasza saw a hint of worry in the prince, his excitement challenged by the reality that it was actually happening. Also, she assumed that he was reminded about the reasons that brought him here, and the cold that reminded him of his illness. He wasn’t sick anymore, that was a few days ago, but the feelings were still there. 

“Casting the spell requires a dragon’s essence. One shares their essence temporarily with the other.” She answered. “Imagine me projecting my knowledge of draconic into you and hoping it stays to some degree.”

“Oh.” Anduin nodded, still confused, but he didn’t press on. 

Instead, the prince stood and watched the three red dragons prepare the spell, thinking to himself about what she said. He had no idea what a dragon’s essence was, though he thinks he’s heard the term essence used before. What did it mean that she was sharing it temporarily with him? Though, projecting something and sharing something were different, right? And why did Alexstrasza need two other dragons to help? 

He felt more anxious the closer the three were to having the spell prepared. He wasn’t sure what he was getting himself into, and the only thought that grounded him was knowing that Alexstrasza wouldn’t do anything to hurt him, and should something happen he trusted her to fix it. 

But what if she couldn’t? Anduin knew that if the Horde hurt him that his father would have their throats, but what would his father do if Alexstrasza was the cause? His father respected her at least, he assumed. 

He missed his father. 

He wanted to go home.

This spell would help him get home faster, hopefully. 

“Prince Wrynn,” One of the two assistants walked up to the prince. “Please stand in the middle of the platform.”

The assistant helped Anduin find the right place before leaving to return to Alexstrasza. Anduin stood nervously, his legs beginning to ache from the cold. He remembered appearing in the same spot days ago, throwing up and begging for help from the dragon queen. 

Anduin watched the queen stand in front of him, though distantly, and the two other assistants take their place on opposite sides of him, forming a half circle around the prince. Alexstrasza gives him a nod, asking if he was ready, and he nods back, despite suddenly not feeling ready. Then, the queen begins casting, speaking words in draconic, as bright violet red and cherry red magic glows around her hands. The magic channels down her arms and to her chest, and consumes her entire form. When the other two dragons join in the casting, Anduin feels suddenly disconnected from the rest of the world. 

He closes his eyes, and yet he still sees the dragon queen before him. 

He feels an overwhelming sense of calmness flood over him, all of his anxieties fading away, all of his stress melting. He doesn’t feel fear when he thinks about home or about his father or about Wrathion. He doesn’t feel regrets about Pandaria nor Garrosh.

He also feels an overwhelming sense of mental strength, he feels no pain in his bones, nor his chest, nor any sensitivity in the burns around his neck. Despite being in humanoid form, he can feel his scales, and the areas in which he picked away scales, and his wings, and his horns, and his tail, as though his heart beat through all of them. He felt in total health and happiness. 

He’d lost a sense of time and surrounding, and when the casting stopped, everything that hurt him and all of his negative emotions returned. He only had a moment to feel despair, before a numbness flooded over him, and he passed out onto the marble flooring of the tower.

-...-

Varian never liked waiting, not for battles, not for meetings, not for replies, not for anything. That said, he’d wait twice as long for everything if he never had to wait to find out if his son was okay or not again. He liked to think that the SI:7 were good enough at their jobs that he could have his son found in Westfall and returned by the night he was witnessed there. But no, no the SI:7 went out to Westfall to search and came back with absolutely nothing useful. 

So he had to wait more.

“We found little sign that he was even there,” Shaw was reporting to him in his office, as the king addressed paperwork. “There were signs that the whelp was there, including fire damage to both a building in Moonbrook and fire damage to much of the Defias’ supplies.”

“Fire damage, or light damage?” Varian asked. 

“Fire damage, sire.”

How funny, this was. It all implied that Anduin was somehow working alongside the Defias, or at least against the men at Sentinel Hill, by stealing food for Moonbrook. Yet, for some reason, the whelp was working against the Defias, burning their supplies, despite the fact that the whelp escaped along side Vancleef. Why would the whelp want to stop the Defias from attacking the crown? What in the hell would Anduin be doing there helping the Defias in attacking the crown?

“We’ve not yet located either of them, however I received a report from an anonymous source that the whelp was seen flying away from Dalaran.”

“Dalaran? In Northrend?” Varian frowned. What a change in scenery. 

“Yes, In Northrend.” Shaw repeated. 

So on one hand, it seemed the Defias were keen on attacking the crown again soon, on the other hand, the whelp somehow managed to escape to an entirely different continent. Varian knew better then to look away from the Defias, doing so could very well mean the end of the Wrynn house, but he wanted to push as many resources as he could to finding and locating his son, as well as trapping the whelp and bringing Onyxia’s child to justice. It was also possible that if he lost the whelp, he may never know where Anduin is, or what keeps him away from home. 

“If I may make a suggestion, my king?” 

Shaw and Varian turned to Manasaber, who’d followed Shaw into the office to make the report. She stood off to the side, quietly, awaiting her chance to speak. 

“Go ahead.” Varian nodded, giving her the chance, despite not really wanting to. 

The mage cleared her throat, remembering her promise to the prince back in the Exodar. 

“I believe our priority should be returning to Westfall to locate the prince, as well as keep a strong eye on the Defias.” She began. “The whelp is important, but I don’t doubt it will be sticking it’s nose around here soon again. We have ways of detecting it now that we know it exists. The prince, however, we cannot be so sure about. He is strong and determined but he is in Defias territory, possibly in their captivity. I can think of no other reason why he would attack his own settlement. Should this be true, it is likely they will use him has leverage over you. The sooner we find him, the better.”

Varian’s immediate idea was to split forces, having Shaw oversee the location of the whelp while he himself searched for his son, but the mage had good points. He hated the idea that he was currently at war on two fronts, with the Defias on one side and the offspring of Onyxia on another, thanking whatever god would listen to him that the Horde wasn’t pulling shit against the Alliance right now. 

He also cared more about the location of his son then the location of the whelp at the moment. His son was fragile and the target of many with bad intentions. Leaving him in the hands of the Defias for too long could lead to his death. Vancleef has always wanted revenge for her father’s death, what better way to achieve it then by killing the son of the High King, who ordered her father’s death? 

“Shaw,” Varian turned to the spymaster. “Send your men to Westfall and make sure the Defias don’t have my son.

“As you wish, King Wrynn.” The spymaster nodded. 

“Manasaber.”

“Sire.” The mage spoke. 

“Locate Lady Proudmoore and have her travel to Northrend. Have her attempt to follow the whelp’s path away from Dalaran.”

The mage nodded her head and bowed. 

The two took their leave, leaving the king to sit at his desk alone. Varian tried to return to his work, however could not end his worries about his son. He pushed aside the work he had been attending to, beginning to put into paperwork that would allow him to visit Westfall himself.

What he wouldn’t give to know why his son wasn’t returning home…

-...-

The spell worked, and thankfully Anduin awoke only a few hours after with no nasty side effects. A little dizzy, the prince ate food and relaxed by sitting at one of Alexstrasza’s bookcases and attempting to read anything written in draconic.

It was nothing like reading common, or orcish, or many mortal language. He’d learned those properly, through years of training and usage. Draconic was different, for one moment he didn’t know it, and the next he did, which meant that he had no past experiences to reflect on. He could understand what was written, but he had no idea how any of it was pronounced, and he was definitely going to need to practice writing it, for he didn’t have the same muscle memory he did for common. 

By late afternoon, he’d written so much draconic gibberish down in a notebook attempting to get used to it that his wrist began to ache. He stood up from where he sat and turned to find Alexstrasza. She wasn’t in the room, which was odd. She was usually in here to monitor his progress. He sighed, wanting to show her what he’d written and ask for advice.

Instead, the prince tucked the book under his arm and left the room, walking first up the stairs of the tower to search for Alexstrasza on the top floor. It was closer, and he figured he could fly down to the bottom of the tower with the book, it wasn’t too big. 

“keh, ghergo wanotreyx.” 

Anduin stopped suddenly, standing on the top open floor of the tower, not finding Alexstrasza but finding one or two others. One red dragon, in an elven form, spoke to him directly. He felt surprised, as he heard her words, because he could understand her, despite never before understanding spoken draconic. 

Anduin needed a second to process the words through his head. ‘Ah, young prince’, he figured. Something that addressed him. He went to reply, but again realized he couldn’t properly pronounce the words. Not yet. 

“A-ava-averyon. Ava’yon?” Anduin spoke, feeling slightly embarrassed at his lack of professionalism. 

The woman smiled and nodded her head. “Ava’yorn. Hello to you too, young prince.”

Anduin smiled, thankful that she continued in common. 

“Have you seen the Life-binder?” He asked. 

“Jaciv zulf ihk vi ifyoev tairais. jaciv geou qe spical.” The woman answered. 

‘She left for a short time. She will be back.’ Anduin processed the words, then nodded in understanding. 

“Vinxa.” Anduin thanked her.

Anduin received a nod in reply, and he turned to leave. If Alexstrasza was out for the moment, he would at least like to take the time to fly around a bit. 

“Densvelkilti di apzen ekess wux, wanotreyx di munthreki. Si huven wux ehtah wer anyuiri wux sweekmon.Wux nomag qe di wer vutha thran, dout kornari qanescic itmen hak wer ixenic di Deathwing.”

Anduin paused to understand her words, before smiling and giving the woman one last nod. Her words meant alot to him, and he was glad that at least one of the dragons circling Wrymrest had faith in him. 

The prince returned downstairs to put the notebook away before re emerging from the tower. He swiftly took whelp form and flew off into the skies. 

The crystal still dangled from the necklace on his neck, waving back and forth through the wind. The prince was certain he didn’t really need it after the spell Alexstrasza cast, however he wanted to hold onto it for safety. Should something happen, it may still be useful in containing his forms. 

Anduin made it pretty far north of the tower before he saw the mountains and forest separating Dragonblight from Crystalsong forest and Dalaran. He saw many skeletons below, and the many worms and vultures that fed upon them. 

Upon closer look, he also saw a figure hunched against the big bone remains. There was a small trail of blood, and the figure was slowly being surrounded by the vultures. Dread filled Anduin, knowing he had to do something. He dived down, landing into the snow a few feet in front of the hunched figure. Shaking off the snow, he snapped his head around to face the vultures and worms edging closer, snapping and growling at them.

He flicked his tail in warning, raised his wings up, and after a few hostile moments, the creatures seemed to understand. They backed off, to a safer distance, to continue watching the dying figure. 

“O-oh my goddess above.” Anduin turned around to see an adventurer laying against the bone. “A black dragon. I- I thought they were all dead!”

The adventure, who looked like the adventurer Anduin stole the meat from nights ago, pushed himself back against the bone, holding onto a deep red gash on his side. Anduin eyed the blood, flooding into the snow, turning it all deep red. 

Anduin kept his eyes on the adventurer, slowly walking up to him, keeping his head and wings down. He tried to not look a threat, but the man was clearly afraid of him, even as a whelp. The man was surrounded by animals that wanted to eat him, he probably thought he was going to die. 

Anduin saw the man close his eyes as the whelp got close enough to touch. Anduin felt sorrow for him, but knew he had no time to waste as he glanced at the gash again. 

Anduin nudged his head against the man’s side, earning a squeak from the man. The adventurer shook, realizing that the whelp was not eating him, not tearing him apart, not killing him. Sheepishly, he glanced down at the whelp as the whelp’s head touched the wound, gently, cautiously avoiding causing any pain with his own horns. 

The adventurer gasped when yellow light glowed around the wound. The glowing grew in size, and as it did, the wound began to heal. 

“A-a black dragon-” The adventurer felt light headed. “A black dragon using the light. Surely I am already d-dead..”

Anduin backed away when the injury was healed, ignoring the blood staining his head to look at the adventurer again. The man was near passing out, but more so due to shock then to bleeding out. 

Distantly, the whelp heard yelling, and turned to see a group of three other adventurers running towards them. From the looks of it, they were friends of the man he’d just healed. 

“Light be with you, friend.” Anduin said quickly, flying off before he could be caught, leaving the man to the aid of his friends. 

When Anduin returned to Wyrmrest Alexstrasza was back, resting in her room, a cup of tea in her hands as well as one sitting at the table near the window. 

“I heard you’re taking to draconic well.” The Queen spoke just as Anduin took a seat at the table. 

“Reading it, sure.” Anduin wrapped his hands around the tea cup, feeling the warmth on his fingers. “Pronouncing it and writing it are...more challenging at the moment.”

“There is always room to grow, young prince.” Alexstrasza smiled. “What of your flying?”

“Better.” Anduin answered. “I had no trouble with it while I was out.”

Anduin paused, then continued. “I am kind of surprised, though. None of this has affected my abilities in the light.”

Alexstrasza seemed perplexed by his comment. “Is the light not something channeled through you by a greater power? Forgive me for not completely understanding. I assumed its power source was not from within but from higher up.”

“Yes, and no.” Anduin frowned. “Someone strong in the light’s eyes can feel the light within them, can pull from that when they want to, but without the Light’s guidance and approval one’s power can be weakened.”

At least, that was how Anduin understood the light. He’s heard stories of the Light abandoning it’s followers which felt difficult to believe. If he remembered Alexstrasza’s explanation of essence correctly, the light worked like an essence that was located somewhere else, but could be pulled from regardless. At least maybe. 

“I somehow thought that my new draconic powers may interfere with my abilities in the light. Healing is very important to me, it is what I know best, I was afraid for a moment that I would lose that power…”

Alexstrasza took a sip from her tea, then got up from her desk. She walked across the room to sit across from Anduin at the table. 

“You are able to continue using the light just fine, correct?” The Queen asked. 

“Yes. Nothing had changed about it.” He said, then moved on. “I want to know more about the powers of the black dragonflight, actually. I know I can wield fire, however-”

“Fire is a power shared by many dragons, not specific to the black flight, however they are more likely to use it.” The queen noted. “Forgive me, young prince, for interrupting.”

“No no, it’s fine.” He said. “What are the powers of the black dragonflight?”

He knew vague facts about the flight, but most of it centered around their corruption and part played in the Cataclysm. 

Alexstrasza leaned back in her chair, letting out a deep breath. 

“The black dragonflight were known to be earth-warders. They could mold the earth, raise mountains, lower valleys, form the borders of land and sea. They were given these powers in order to protect and watch over Azeroth and her people. They divided up land with mountains to help keep order between the races who lived there.”

Suddenly a lot of things made sense to Anduin. 

“So that’s why there are so many strange mountain ranges across Azeroth! I always thought the way they were placed was strange.” Anduin exclaimed. “Each and every territory seemed isolated from the one next to it.”

“The black dragonflight hoped to discourage wars over land.” Alexstraza nodded. 

“An interesting way to go about it.” Anduin hummed, “I wish I could say it worked, though the factions haven’t really done much good for it…”

“Their flight did not take into account that mortals do not like to be caged in. Your factions are not the only ones who feel this way.” The Queen smiled. “It was a plan that would only work for so long.”

The Queen took a sip of tea, then continued. 

“The black dragonflight was one of the most important flights in terms of Azeroth’s well being and survival, that including her inhabitants. The Earth-warder was supposed to be hers and your guardian.” The Queen sighed. “It is a shame that all they are remembered for is her near destruction.” 

Anduin saw melancholy on her face, and shifted awkwardly in his chair. 

“I...I know Wrathion is trying to change that…” Anduin mumbled. 

“Then I wish him the best of luck.” The Queen still held her expression.

There was a minute pause in their conversation, Anduin drinking down some of his own tea. 

“Besides the fire and the terraforming, black dragons also can heal others.”

Anduin looked up at the queen with surprise. She smirked, knowing that this would catch his attention. 

“What? Really?” Anduin tried to remember if Wrathion ever mentioned anything, but couldn’t think of anything. 

The queen chuckled. “All dragons can heal. Our blood can be used to mend wounds.”

“Dragon blood?” 

“It can be used as a boost to your immune system, among many other things. Blood from the red flight works best for healing over time. Green for restoration, and typically good for dead or damaged nature.Blue dragon flight aids in mana regeneration. Bronze flight helps in healing old injuries. Scars, lost limbs, cancers. The black flight’s blood is weakest on dragons, but the strongest for lesser mortal races.” 

“Amazing.” Anduin had no idea. “How...How does it work?”

“Just as a potion would. Mixing dragon blood with others can have side effects best left avoided.”

Anduin frowned in thought. “Does mixing dragon blood cause...this to happen? Become, like, half dragon or something?”

Alexstrasza shook her head. “It can aid in the process of corruption, should that be one’s goal, but it can’t turn a mortal into a dragon, not even part way. If a dragon wanted to do that, they would need to give up some of their own essence permanently.” 

“Did...I...Did Onyxia infuse me with her essence?”

Alexstrasza paused, appearing to hesitate, before she replied. 

“That isn’t something I know for sure.”

Anduin didn’t like her answer. Didn’t like the idea that Onyxia tainted his being. Left him permanently changed. He wondered if essence was something that could be given back, but figured it didn’t matter when the dragon witch was dead. He calmed himself with another sip of tea. 

“You’ve talked about it, but what is essence anyway?” Anduin asked as he placed his cup back down. “How do you infuse others with your own essence? Is it a limited resource? What does it look like?” 

Alexstrasza loved Anduin’s curiosity. “You saw it when we performed the spell earlier, however temporary.”

Anduin thought back to that moment, remember seeing the dragon while he could see nothing else. Was it the red glow?

“Essences are the intrinsic nature of something, something that determines one’s character. We dragons have powerful essences, yet limited in supply. We must be careful when we choose to give our essence away. It’s possible Onyxia gave you part of her essence, but for what reason I wouldn’t know.”

“She….wanted to take over Stormwind. My family. Said she wanted to turn my bloodline into slaves. Was she corrupting me?” Anduin asked. 

“Essences do not corrupt, even if they come from a corrupted individual. IF she did give you part of her essence, she gave you part of herself that was true to her. It is only because that part of her is of the black flight that you may be more easily corrupted.”

“So she wasn’t trying to corrupt me?” Anduin seemed confused.

“I would guess she was trying to make it easier to corrupt you. Passing on the curse of her flight, allowing the whispers to become more powerful.” Alexstrasza said, thankful that Anduin had the light to aid him against these whispers. 

“Is it possible that my father has her essence as well?”

“Did he step upon the rune? The one that turned you into a whelp?”

Anduin shook his head. “No, he did not. Not that I know of.”

“If Onyxia saw him difficult to corrupt, she may have.” The queen answered. 

Honestly, Anduin wasn’t so sure Onyxia did. His father was easy to corrupt at the time, especially with the death of Tiffin. Onyxia would have no reason to waste her essence on him, yet that may have been her downfall. Varian was easily charmed, but Lo’Gosh saw through it. Had she infused his father, she may have won in the end. 

But, also, this all implied that she saw Anduin as much harder to corrupt than his father. 

“Is essence something only dragons have?” Anduin moved on. 

“Oh no! Everyone has an essence of their own. You too.”

“I do? How do I know? How does it work? Is it anything like yours?”

“I don’t know. I know how mine works, but that is because I have relied on it many times before. You are young and have relied on the light more so for aid.”

“How do I know when I feel it?”

“You will know it when you do.”

Anduin didn’t like that answer. 

“What if I never feel it?”

“Then,” Alexstrasza replied, “be thankful you will never need to withdraw from your own inner power.”

Anduin went to sip more of his tea, but then saw it was empty. He then got up from the table, wanting to find where he placed his journal from earlier. 

“Would you review some of the draconic I wrote?” He asked the queen. 

“Of course! I would love to.” 

-...-

Jaina Proudmoore arrived in Dalaran not long after being contacted by Manasaber. It was an easy trip to make, given arcane portals existed and she was a quite powerful mage. That said, she wished whatever person had seen the whelp leaving Dalaran made themselves known. Locating a whelp who may have been here a few days ago was not an easy task. It’d be nice to know what direction. If details were given, Manasaber never said. 

Jaina was lost in thought, trying to come up with a plan, when she walked into a figure. She gasped, regaining her stance, only to find she’d bumped into Kalecgos, of all people.

“Jaina!” The blue dragon smiled upon seeing her. 

Though they weren’t together anymore, the mage and blue dragon continued to at least be friends. 

“Kalec!” Jaina returned the greeting. “Have you seen or heard anything about an onyxian whelpling?”

Kalecgos paused, a bit taken back by the sudden question. 

“N-no! An Onyxian whelpling?” He then chukeled. “Jaina, what makes you think any of those are still around?”

Jaina frowned. “There was one in Stormwind pretending to be the prince. He escaped, and Anduin is still missing.”

“Oh,” 

“Please, Kalecgos, if you hear anything of them, please let me know.” Jaina pleaded, and the blue dragon could feel the desperation in her words. 

“Anything for the safety of the young prince.” He replied. 

“Thank you,” Jaina sighed, then turned to walk away. “I must go, I have much work to do.”

“Good luck, Jaina.” Kalecgos said as she left. He received no reply. 

Kalecgos sighed, he disliked lying to Jaina, but it was best she did not know yet. He turned to continue on his way, walking into one of the buildings in Dalaran. He made is way down some floors into a sort’ve basement, which appeared as an office of some kind, with magical objects all over the walls. 

In the middle of the room, Chromie sat, a vision playing out in front of her. 

Kalecgos watched momentarily, the moment a scene of Anduin’s life, probably around the time of the Cataclysm. 

“No luck yet, huh?” He asked. 

Chromie sighed, shaking her head. “No.”

Chromie picked up a manabun, sitting on a plate beside her, and continued to watch Anduin’s life play out in reverse. 

-...-

That night, in his dreams, Anduin found himself within the depths of a dark lair. 

“Alnyxia!” 

Anduin turned around to find whoever spoke his name, however there was no one. He heard a chorus of chanting in the distant, like cultists, however there were not in the part of the cavern he was in. 

He began to walk closer to the chanting, their voices growing louder. 

They were calling for, possibly a summoning, of Alnyxia. They were speaking a language he wasn’t familiar with. 

It was odd, Anduin thought. He made up the name, didn’t he? He didn’t intend on ever using it again, either. 

As Anduin got closer to the voices, another, softer voice spoke to him from the other direction. 

“Anduin.”

Anduin turned away from the direction of the chanting, seeing nothing but the darkness of the caverns. 

“The queen cannot help you anymore. The answers you seek are somewhere else.”

Anduin was confused. “What do you mean?”

“You seek to know what you really are, but the Queen does not know. I know, and I can show you, but you will need to come to me.” 

Anduin hesitated, but replied. “W-where are you? Who are you?”

Anduin felt a surge of desperation within himself, looking around the cavern for the speaker of the voice. He wanted to know who they were, how they knew him, his situation. 

“All will be answered upon your arrival.”

“Arrival where!?” Anduin’s voice rose as the anxiety within rose. 

“Blackrock.”

The voice faded, yet the emotions in Anduin only grew, consuming his mind. 

Blackrock was a place that only Twilight Hammer cultists resided, he knew, but the voice that spoke to him led him on, soothed him in an odd way. He wanted to hear them again, but they did not speak more. 

He knew the risk, but the desire in his heart grew too much. 

-...-

When Alexstrasza awoke the next morning, she could not find the young prince. 

He was not where he slept, he was not downstairs or upstairs. He was nowhere in the tower, and upon asking, none of the other dragons could find him either. Upon returning to her chambers, she found a note left on her desk. 

“Life-Binder,

Thank you for everything you have done for me. With regret, I must leave urgently. I am in your debt. 

-Anduin Llane Wrynn.”

The paper was torn from the journal he wrote draconic in, and the journal itself wasn’t far away. The writing was messy, nowhere near the same penmanship Anduin usually showed as a noble and future king of the Alliance. 

The letter, and everything about it, was very concerning. 

“My Queen.”

Alexstrasza turned to see one of her brood standing at the door. 

“What is it? Have you found the prince?”

“N-no. You have a visitor.”

Before the queen could respond, her brood stepped aside and allowed another into the room.

“Ah, Chromie.” Alexstrasza welcomed the bronze dragon. “Have you found anything?”

The door was closed as the brood left, leaving the queen to speak with Chromie. 

“It took a lot of sleepless nights, but I have in fact found the reason for the prince’s problems!”

Alexstrasza let out a breath. “Good.”

Chromie began casting a spell, and the queen watched as she did. 

“So, upon reviewing the prince’s life, I found a memory once forgotten.” 

The spell was cast, and a circular disk appear before them, a vision played through it. As it played out, Chromie explained it. 

“See, Lady Onyxia sought to corrupt the young prince, er, king, in order to further her plans in taking control of Stormwind.”

Before them, the vision showed Onyxia trapping the small child, infusing him with her essence as he shook in fear. However, it seemed the boy could only take a small amount of the power at one time, and Onyxia stopped before great damage could be done. Then, she approached the child, calming him with her soft motherly voice, as she erased his memories. 

Alexstrasza felt disgusted watching the scene. 

“She managed to infuse him with her essence over time, in short doses, in hopes that it would turn him into something like dragonkin.” Chromie ended the scene, explaining what she found. “She did this three times before being killed.”

“She did this enough to change him…” Alexstrasza began.

“But not enough to succeed in her plan.” Chromie finished. “Exactly.”

“How awful…” The Queen frowned. “I suspected something like this, I did not wish to be right.”

“But, now that we know, we can better help him!” Chromie smiled. 

“The prince left sometime in the night. No one can find him.We...We will leave for Stormwind now. You must show the king what you’ve found.” Alexstrasza said.

Alexstrasza was not pleased with the situation, as she hoped to bring Anduin with her. At least, if anything, as soon as the king knew the truth, Anduin would be welcomed home no matter what form he returned in. 

She hoped the prince was okay.

Chromie placed her hand gently on the Queen, in a comforting motion.

“Everything will be okay.”

“I hope so.”

-...-

“My prince.”

Wrathion paused, currently in his whelp form, sniffing around the site of a burrow. A burrow, whelp sized, dug into the snow at the edge of a forest infested with harpies. There was rotting meat left outside, and signs of throw up. Whelping foot prints, covered by the footprints of animals that had come after. Animals seemed to smell the meat, however were put off by the distant scent of a dragon whelp. 

“Yes, Right?” Wrathion replied into the blood gem. 

“I’ve discovered the name of the whelpling. The Defias whisper it amongst each other.”

“Yes?”

“Alnyxia.”

Wrathion growled, repeating the name in his head. 

Wrathion vowed to find this Alnyxia whelp, as well as find Anduin. Alive. 

He thanked Right before leaving the burrow site, taking flight, headed in the direction the whelp’s scent lead him. 

-...-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you draconic.twilightrealm.com  
> Chapter title: "Learning Something New"  
> Last thing dragon lady says to Anduin: "Best of luck to you, prince of humans. I wish you find the answers you seek. Though you may be of the black flight, your heart shines brighter then the fires of Deathwing."
> 
> Also everything about dragons was pulled for the wiki except the shit i made up about dragon blood.
> 
> Thank you all for reading so far! The comments are a great motivator, and I would love to hear what you think! Let me know your thoughts down below! Thank you <3


	8. Stunned

-...-

Finding Alnyxia ended up being easier than Wrathion believed. A good wind picked up a scent and now the black prince found himself above an old Alliance garrison far away from any dense civilization.

“Hiding in plain sight, hm?” Wrathion muttered to himself, looking down upon the buildings below. Their windows shined brightly against the darkness of the early morning sky.

The place wasn’t abandoned, though no more than fifteen people seemed to be stationed there. As Wrathion located the small Inn, he hid himself in a whelp stealth form, entering the main lobby.

“Can I help you, young adventurer?”

Wrathion nearly lost his balance, hearing the voice speak up from the counter. However, it seemed the woman was not addressing him, had not even seen him. Walking into the room was a figure in a cloak, clearly being careful to hide their face with the hood. Wrathion watched, knowing it had to be Alnyxia. He’d been the only visitor to the place in a long while, obvious by the way the workers looked at him.

“How’s the room?” The woman asked as the figure stood before her across the counter.

“It’s fine, thank you.” The voice said. It sounded like Anduin, of course. Wrathion despised the whelp for even continuing to use Anduin’s likeness. “I am looking for a mage.”

The lady frowned. “I don’t believe we have one on duty, but I can send for one.”

“I would appreciate that.” Alnyxia nodded their head. “Please send them to my room when they arrive.”

“Will do!” The lady said before the hooded figure turned and left back towards the Inn’s rooming.

Wrathion wasn’t sure what Alnyxia wanted a mage for, but he was going to find out. Following the figure, Wrathion managed to slip into the room as Alnyxia went through the door, the door nearly slamming on his own tail. Wrathion quickly took a look around the room, finding the best place to hide. A high vantage point.

The room was just wood. Wooden flooring, wooden walls, wooden desk, wooden bed, wooden dresser, wooden ceiling beams. The beams above caught Wrathion’s attention, and he quietly flew up to them, sitting on them with a nice view of Alnyxia and the desk he sat at. As Wrathion landed on the beams, they cracked slightly, startling Alnyxia. However, despite almost locking eyes, the dragon below could not see through Wrathion’s stealth.

Alnyxia let the cloak lay against the bed before sitting down at the desk, lighting the gas lamp and pulling out a pen and small stack of paper from within one of the drawers. He yawned, stretching his arms into the air, then tugged at his pony tail until his hair fell to his shoulders. The hair was still just as long and blonde as Anduin’s. His motions and body language still read Anduin. Everything about Alnyxia made Wrathion’s chest hurt.

How dare he continue to use Anduin’s face. Though, if anything, refraining from using a different likeness meant that Wrathion could continue to easily point out Alnyxia in a crowd.

As Alnyxia began writing on the paper, Wrathion leaned in slightly to read what he wrote. The handwriting began somewhat rushed, however upon realizing this Alnyxia started anew on a different sheet of paper. He spent a bit more time being careful with his writing this time.

“Father,”

The letter began addressing Varian, it seemed, and Wrathion’s mind began racing with possible reasons as to why. A letter from his son would definitely make people believe the prince was still alive.

Alive.

Wrathion didn’t want to believe that the real Anduin was gone, but he’d not found any signs of him alive. There was a report of a light user burning down food supplies back in Westfall, but Wrathion felt it was more of a trick to aid in Alnyxia’s escape. If everyone looked towards Westfall, he could escape to another continent.

Everything Wrathion had seen pointed to Anduin being dead, which brought back up the question of for how long? How long was Anduin really Anduin and not a fake?

“...I don’t know what’s happening to me. I spoke with the Life-Binder and she can prove to you that I am who I say I am. Now I am looking for why. When I know for sure, I'll seek Velen and Alexstrasza’s aid and I will return. Please know that I’m okay.”

Alnyxia signed the letter with Anduin’s name, then set the letter to the side.

Wrathion couldn’t say he was surprised. A simple convincing letter to keep Varian Wrynn on his toes. A call to sources that Varian would believe even without checking up on.

A new paper was drawn and Alnyxia began writing again.

“Wrathion,”

A letter to him? How interesting that he’d even continue trying to push a lie against a fellow black dragon. Wrathion’s tail flickered back and forth as he watched Alnyxia’s penship closely.

Alynixa began his letter in draconic, a fairly stupid mistake Wrathion thought. Anduin didn’t know draconic. How could he? He was human.

“Si rece yora Vs'shtak de Alexstrasza. jaciv ankua ve alot zahae sia z'ar vers.”

Yeah right, Wrathion almost huffed.

Alnyxia paused, frowning, shaking his head as he crumbled up the paper and threw it to the side.

“He’ll never believe me.” Alnyxia muttered as he pulled a new sheet out and started back in common.

“Wrathion,

I sought answers with the Life-Binder however I have not yet heard anything but theories. She helped me learn how to use my new powers, but that alone is not proof to you nor anyone else that I am Anduin Wrynn. I believe I may be able to find answers elsewhere, and when I do find them, I will return.”

Wrathion felt anger build up within him. Alnyxia won’t let go of the obvious lies. He continues to want to give Wrathion hope.

Alnyxia paused in hesitation before continuing.

“This last week has hurt so much, but please know that I do not blame you nor father for what was done or said.”

Maybe, just maybe, had Wrathion not witnessed Alnyxia pen this letter, would he have believed the words it said.

“Light knows I would have had a similar reaction. Ptsd runs deep into any crack Onyxia caused.”

Maybe Alnyxia wasn’t as dumb as Wrathion previously thought.

The words he spun would’ve convinced anyone, would’ve convinced him, Wrathion hated to know. Continuing this lie that he was the lost prince was a scheme Alnyxia COULD pull off. It seemed he had much of a way with words as Anduin had.  
NO! No! Alnyxia HAD to know he was here, watching. He was doing this to get under his scales. There was no other possibility.

The anger pooled within and became too much. The stealthed whelpling felt his tail flick against the beams, his claws dig into the wood, and his body reacted. But too late could he calm down, before the beam creaked and cracked and broke.

Wrathion gasped, falling to the floor, out of stealth.

“Wha-”

Alnyxia shot up from the chair, pushing it back and turning to see the whelp spy. Without hesitation, he pulled up a spell and cast it before Wrathion had any time to react, the spell stunning Wrathion where he sat on the floor.

Alnyxia seemed to go through several mixed emotions upon realizing who it was. His hands shook and he glared at Wrath, the poor whelp caught it a stun that disabled movement. Wrathion could watch Alnyxia, but could not move.

Maybe he was the dumb whelp here.

“I-” Alnyxia began, but his voice immediately broke. Alnyxia choked back tears and wiped them away with his arm. “I can’t do this right now.”

Wrathion was forced to watch as Alnyxia shoved all the paper and letters into the nearby trash bin and grabbed his cloak, quickly putting it back on, muttering to himself about a portal and Blackrock.

Wrathion tried to speak, to say anything, but the stun prevented him from it, and he watched as Alnyxia rushed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

The room was quiet, and Wrathion had nothing but himself to thank for this as he waited for the stun to end.

Except the stun didn’t seem to end any time soon…

Thirty seconds passed, a minute passed, two minutes….

-

By the time the door opened again, the stunned whelp on the floor had fallen asleep. The light coming from outside the window showed it’d been a considerable amount of time since Alnyxia left. Wrathion tried to yawn, but again, he couldn’t move. He lazily looked around only to find the mage Alnyxia sent for finally arrived.

Oh, It was Jaina Proudmoore.

Aannd she was laughing at him.

‘Just unstun me already!’ Wrathion growled in his thoughts, hoping the mage would somehow hear him.

“When I heard a lone adventurer was in need of a mage this was the last thing I expected to see.” Jaina grinned, leaning over the whelp. “Give me a second.”

Jaina took her time dispelling the stun. Each second she took longer than needbe was another second Wrathion spent plotting her death.

Finally, the mage freed him, and Wrathion shook himself more awake. He then transformed back into his humanoid form, stretching his legs and arms.

“Good thing there was a mage nearby, huh?” Jaina watched.

Wrathion shot her a glare. “Had you been any closer and you might’ve been able to catch Alnyxia.”

Jaina frowned, watching Wrathion walk over to the trash bin behind the desk and shuffle through it.

“Alnyxia?” She asked, though she probably already had an idea.

“The onyxian whelp that took Anduin.” Wrathion answered, pulling out the two letters from the trash, uncrumpling them, and putting them inside his jacket. “Apparently that is his name.”

“Do you know where he was going?” Jaina asked.

Wrathion thought for a moment, remembering the muttering before he left. Something about Blackrock. The place of cultists. Probably somewhere an Onyxian whelp would have an interest in. But it would be dangerous to go there and Wrathion wanted to investigate this lead on his own, without alerting the crown and his spy network.

“No.”

-...-

Varian adjusted his shoulder pad as the nearest soldier waiting patiently to present him Shalamayne.

“-once there, the Defias cannot hide any longer. We will find out what they know.” Genn Greymane continued going over the plan, Tako Manasaber and Maliphos standing to the side. “We will recover the prince and return him home safely.”

“Understood.” Manasaber nodded her head, Maliphos standing to attention.

Varian turned and took his sword from the soldier, gazing at it’s shiney blades.

Yet again, he thought, he and Shalamayne must save the prince from a dragon.

Memories of Onyxia flickered through his head. The amount of pain Onyxia had put him and his family and kingdom through. Varian frowned, gripping Shalamayne tightly.

No, Onyxia won’t continue her torture from the dead. Her whelpling won’t get as far as she did.

“Your majesty,” Greymane turned to Varian. “We are ready to depart to Westfall as soon as you-”

“Wait a moment!”

The group turned to look down the throne room hallway, seeing Jaina Proudmoore and Wrathion following her.

“Lady Proudmoore.” Maliphos dipped her head in greeting. Manasaber followed suit.

“You’ve returned from Northrend much sooner than I thought you would.” Varian seemed slightly surprised, eyeing Wrathion for a moment.

“I found a whelpling. Just not the whelp we were hoping for.” Jaina said.

“I almost had him.” Wrathion grumbled.

“Until you were perma stunned.” Jaina added.

“Perma stunned?” Varian asked.

“He was left stunned for hours by the time I arrived. This whelp we’re after is very powerful.” Jaina nodded her head.

“Not many spellcasters know stun spells that even last one hour.” Manasaber frowned.

“I highly doubt it was a permanent stun.” Wrathion shook his head. “Though I am left curious as to the amount of power this dragon has.”

Manasaber looked slightly disterbed. “This isn’t a spell that a trained priest would have, is it?”

“No. Not a normal priest, I’m sure of.” Jaina replied.

“Then it is a good thing we have many talented mage allies when it comes to facing him down.” Varian said, putting Shalamayne to his side. “Since you’ve returned, Jaina, would you aid us in Westfall?”

“Of course, my king.” Jaina nodded.

As they spoke, a guard from the front doors walked over, requesting to speak to King Wrynn.

As soon as Varian saw him, he nodded for him to speak.

“You have guests, King Wrynn. They wish to speak to you urgently.” The guard said, slightly nervous. It was the nervousness that wasn’t projected at him, Varian knew for he knew his own guards well. It was nervousness from the guests.

Varian turned to Genn. “Genn, take Maliphos and a portal to Westfall and prepare our men there. As soon as I can I will join you there.”

Both Genn Greymane and Maliphos nodded, bidding farewell to the king and making their way out of the room.

Varian turned back to the guard. “I will see to our guests now.”

As the guard rushed back to the front of the keep, Varian walked over to sit upon his throne.

“So it seemed you managed to track down the whelp to Northrend.” Varian gave a quick look to Wrathion. “Any word on where he was heading?”

Wrathion frowned. The question was rhetorical. If Wrathion knew where the whelp was heading, he’d go there. Or, so Varian believed. But Wrathion needed to reconnect with Left, Right, and his network before risking a trip into Blackrock alone. The cultists there were fucknuts crazy and would probably absolutely love a visit from him. Wrathion shuddered at the thought.

They sung chants about the end of the world, and it seemed Deathwing’s failure did not phase them. They would sit and wait for the next world-ender, and it was likely they had their sights on Alnyxia for that very reason.

“No word, your majesty.”

Just as he spoke, the room echoed with the entrance of the guests, their shoes clicking with the marble flooring. The group looked up, and appearing at the end of the throne room were Queen Alexstrasza and bronze dragon Chronormu, or Chromie.

“I heard you had a dragon problem, King Wrynn.” Alexstrasza smiled, bowing to the High King. Chromie followed suit.

“Life-Binder,” Varian nodded, “Chronormu. Your visit is surprising, but not unwelcomed.”

The two guests stepped further into the room.

“I believe I can aid you in your search for Prince Anduin.” Alexstrasza began. “He was with me at Wyrmrest Temple for the last few days.”

“That wasn’t Anduin, that was the onyxian whelp!” Wrathion growled.

“Have you considered, Wrathion, that Anduin IS the onyxian whelp?” Chromie asked.

“He’s fooled them both.” Wrathion couldn’t believe this. How had Alnyxia fooled the dragon queen??

“What do you mean by that?” Varian asked Chromie. He too didn’t buy it, but the dragons before him held great power and knowledge. This wasn’t a claim they would make lightly.

“Prince Anduin came to me seeking help. Claimed that new powers awoke within him that he did not understand, and that made him a target. I promised to look into the cause and to help him control those powers.” Alexstrasza explained. “I left Chromie to do the task. She has returned with important information.”

Alexstrasza stepped to the side, allowing Chromie to take the room’s attention.

“I spent quite a lot of time watching Prince Anduin’s past and finally came upon key moments that explain what is happening to him now. If you will allow me, I have prepared a series of spells that will allow me to show you these moments.” Chromie said.

The room was silent until Varian nodded.

“You have my attention.” He spoke.

Chromie took the permission and began spellcasting, magic pouring into her arms.

“Please close your eyes and relax.” She said.

It was difficult to relax with the claims both dragons were making, but the group did was best they could.

-...-

The door to the room opened abruptly, causing dust to go flying everywhere. Three tall figures walked in, one holding a smaller figure.

“Chain him up.” a femanine voice spoke harshly. “I don’t want him to mess this up.”

A dull light flickered on and suddenly the figures were visible. Lady Katrana Prestor stood straight, watching as two Stormwind guards walked across the room to a jail cell. The guards, likely disguised black dragonkin, left the cell door wide open, chaining a young child to the back wall. The child, Prince (or King? The time of the vision was difficult to tell) Anduin was unconscious as this happened.

Metal clamps shut tightly around his tiny wrists, keeping him locked against the cold concrete wall.

“Don’t forget his ankles!” Prestor growled as the dragonkin began to leave the cell. “He’ll wake up during this!”

The men returned to finish their work, making sure that there was absolutely no way the kid could move around more than an inch. Metal upon metal wrapped around the small body made sure of it.

“Let me see.”

Prestor walked over, pushing the dragonkin away so that she could approve of their work.

She knelt down before the child, adjusting the metal chains and clamps, watching as the sharp edges scratched against his body. Every mark they left on him she would need to clean up before he was allowed back in front of normal man’s eyes.

“I thought I had asked for something much easier on his skin, but I know now that none of you fools listen!” Prestor barked at the dragonkin. “I CAN NOT have anyone suspect child abuse taking place in the Keep!”

“Yes ma’am!” The dragonkin nodded in reply quickly.

Prestor stood up and stepped back, a fair distance away from the child. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself. Letting her heart rate slim, she opened her eyes only to focus on the child before her.

Then she began to chant.

The room darkened until only she and Anduin could be seen.

Red magic appeared around the woman, her hand reaching out to touch the red sparkle. It spiraled around her, a darker red coming from within her. She felt herself raise off the floor, closing her eyes to call louder to her essence.

The red glows around her grew brighter, grew in strength, and moved along with her as she reached out towards the child.

Her essence followed, finding the child, encasing him in red, awaking him.

Anduin woke up gasping, attempting to move but finding himself unable too. This only scared him more. His eyes widened at the sight of the red essence around him. As he opened his mouth to scream, it felt like it was flooding him.

His screams were ear piercing, yet did not cause Prestor to stumble.

“AAASSTOP!” Anduin gasped, pulling against the chains that dug into his skin.

Prestor ignored him, focusing all of her energy on the casting. He would accept her essence. He can’t stop her.

The more she pushed, the more he screamed and cried and pulled. Blood began to surface as the chains dug into his wrists, dripping onto the dirty floor below.

He cried out for help, for her to stop. He cried out for his father, for Bolvar, for anyone. Though tears blurred his vision, he could make out the appearance of two Stormwind Guard, and he pleaded for them as well, but they did nothing but watch him suffer.

His cries didn’t matter to her, as she could feel his essence accepting hers, and the breath of a black dragon being born anew into his soul. She grinned, pushing more, feeling powerful.

His cries turned from cries for help to cries of pain. Udder horrible pain.

He could not take any more of this.

His soul and body would not be able to survive all that she aimed to give him, not all at once.

Frustrated, Prestor cut off her spell casting, the red glows disappearing, and all returning to normal.

She brushed off her clothes, sighing. “I should’ve known a weak soul like his wouldn’t be able to withstand this type of corruption all in one go.”

As Prestor walked towards Anduin, Anduin’s sobbing continued, and his body shook, making the metal chains rattle against the wall. His big eyes watched her every move.

She knelt before him, meeting his gaze. She extended a hand, wiping away his tears.

“Forgive me, my child.” She spoke softly, her voice turning motherly and sweet in tone. “We will need to do this again. It was not my intention to.”

Anduin seemed to want to speak, to ask her what or why, but all he got out were more sobs.

“When we are finished, you will have powers greater than any human could give you.” She answered. “You will be able to fly.”

Prestor examined the child’s cuts and frowned as she saw the rather bloody mess his wrist left behind. She knew he would attempt to escape, but she had not taken into account how he would push so much that he’d probably nearly cut off his own hand had she continued. She would need to make sure he was properly healed before anyone else got close to him.

She looked back at him with sorrowful eyes. She raised her hands gently towards his face, to which he flinched. She placed them gently against his cheeks.

“My son, I will make this up to you, whether you remember or not.” She said, and then swiftly cast a spell that put him back to sleep.

She unchained the child, picking him up and holding him in her own arms.

“When he wakes up, “ She turned to the dragonkin. “He won’t remember a thing.”

As she walked by the dragonkin, she continued.

“I will hide his injuries.” She said. “We will do this again once they’ve healed.”

The woman left the room, the two dragonkin following her swiftly.

-...-

The throne room slowly came back to their senses as the vision ended. It was quiet as the scene that played before them sank in.

Varian dug his nails into the side of the throne.

“What-” He spoke harshly. “Did she DO to my son!”

“She infused him with a small part of her essence.” Alexstrasza spoke.

“What does that mean!?” Varian continued.

“She infused Prince Anduin with her powers. Permanently.” She answered, continuing from there. “She hoped that doing so would aid in corrupting him, however she was only able to do this two more times. She died before being able to complete her work.”

“Ever since that moment Prince Anduin Llane Wrynn has had the powers of the Onyxian brood mother Onyxia, however because she erased his memory he would never know about it. Not unless something else caused his powers to activate.” Chromie explained.

“Say….a trap created by a mage…?” Alexstrasza asked, looking over towards Manasaber.

Manasaber held her hand to her mouth, shaken by the discovery. “This...This was all because of me-”

“The trap most likely caused his human body to react with the powers, and he’s been in pain ever since.”

“He was telling the truth!” Jaina cried out. “He was telling us the truth and we didn’t listen!”

The human mage shook at the realization, tears running down her face as she remembered everything. Every moment she faced the onyxian whelpling before his escape.

“My son...has the powers of a dragon...and no one knew?” Varian himself found it absurd.

“Your son IS a dragon and the only one who ever knew was killed long ago.” Alexstrasza nodded.

“My son is a dragon and i- we- scared him off.” Varian stood from his throne. “If we are to understand this then he must return home! Life-Binder, you said he was with you. Where did he go?”

“Blackrock.”

Wrathion’s whisper was much too weak for anyone to understand.

“What did he say?”

Wrathion knew now where Anduin was and the realization was troubling.

If Anduin was headed towards Blackrock, he was in danger. He needed to be stopped. Now.

Wrathion, without repeating himself, burst into a sprint, running out of the room. Odd, however no one expected him to take the revelation well either.

“Where is my son now?” Varian asked Alexstrasza again.

“He left Wrymrest sometime last night. He did not say where he was going.” The Queen answered.

They had yelled at and threatened Anduin with harm beyond imagination, and now his son was missing. Missing and alone and in pain. Scared, yet again, of his own father. Of his own family and friends and kingdom.

As Varian tried to keep himself calm, he tried to comfort Jaina, the mage’s cries echoed across the room. The mage shook in his arms and did not seem to acknowledge his attempts.

The king had to keep himself from falling apart like Jaina.

How many times did things like this need to happen.

For his son to hurt.

For his son to go missing.

For Onyxia to trash was good he had.

“Anduin will not easily return home on his own.” Varian frowned. “Please, Life-Binder, I will need all the aid you can give. I need him to know that you’ve told us the truth. That Stormwind is safe for him again.”

“We will help as much as we can.” Alexstrasza nodded. “Though I regret being unable to show him the same visions.”

“What?” Varian asked.

“The Prince left hours before Chromie returned with what she found. He does not know yet. We will need to find him to tell him the truth behind his powers.”

Varian stepped back, leaving Jaina to her sobbing. He looked from the guards to Manasaber, seeing her shamed expression.

After a moment of thought, he spoke.

“Manasaber.”

“King Wrynn?”

“ Pull our resources from Westfall. Alert Greymane and Maliphos. We will focus on searching for my son instead.”

-...-

Katrana Prestor sat to the side of the room, by the large window, sipping hot tea as she watched the young monarch Anduin Llane Wrynn play with his toys.

Instead of friends, he sat in his room with wooden dolls and a large doll house.

It was kinda cute, the way he named all of the dolls and how he created a mini story for each one.

“My dear,” Katrana spoke up, gaining the boy’s attention.

“Yes?” Anduin asked, looking over to her.

“If you could have any power, what would you pick?”

The boy put down his toys for a moment, thinking.

“I think It would be the power to help people.”

Katrana smirked. How adorable of him. And predictable.

“Well, what about flying? If you could have wings, would you like to fly?”

The child beamed. “Like the gryphons!?”

Katrana nodded. “Yes, like the gryphons.”

“YES!!”

Anduin jumped up, holding his arms out like wings and running around the room flapping them.

“I WOULD!”

‘Be careful dear! I don’t want you tripping and falling!” Katrana called out, laughing at the child’s show of energy.

“Yes Ma’am!!”

-...-

-...-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof sorry for that wait.  
> ;n;


	9. Tiffin's Legacy

-...-

The distant smell of the sea was the only comfort Anduin felt at the moment. Stormwind was a distant shape, hardly visible from the heat waves of Blackrock. He never thought that he would be flying away from home to Blackrock Mountain, but he craved what knowledge his dreams said could be found here.

Anduin flew in place before Blackrock Mountain, taking in it’s odd beauty. It seemed to radiate heat that even in the form of a black dragon drew out sweat. The lava glowed in his eyes, sparkling against his crystal necklace. He gulped, fear settling in his bones that he must overcome. He had to enter. He had to face those inside. He had to find answers.

Anduin flew down to the found, deciding to walk in. He took his humanoid form, stepping forward and

An arcane trap set off, locking Anduin in place.

“What?” Anduin gasped, his heart racing.

“Thought you could get away, Wrynn?”

Before him, Vanessa Vancleef appeared. Along with her, Mortor, the elder mage he’d meet before. The two stood between Anduin and Blackrock. Frustrated, the prince glanced between the mountain and the new obstacles before him. How close he was to where his answers were and yet so far away.

“I’m not finished with you, not after that shit you pulled-”

Anduin shook his head angrily. “How did you find me?”

“-last time.” Vancleef paused. “What?”

“How did you find me!?!” Anduin yelled.

Vancleef frowned and glanced down, stepping to the side as Mortor walked up to the prince.

“There are a few other...tricks of that crystal I gave you.” Mortor answered, picking up the crystal to look it over. It looked just the same as before. Not a new scratch on it.

“You put a tracker on me!?”

“There is another crystal, a twin, so to spea-”

“A TRACKER!?”

In a fit of sudden rage, the arcane trap was overpowered, Anduin setting himself free. In that moment, the dull red in his eyes turned bright. His nails felt just a little sharper, his strength just a bit stronger, his skin just a bit harder. He stepped forward and without even realizing it, the two women stepped backwards.

Not taking any chances, Vancleef darted forward, knocking the prince out before he had a chance to escape. Anduin may have had the power to win in a fight against them, but he didn’t know how to use those powers properly yet. He fell back against the stone, hitting harder than Vancleef would’ve liked.

The rogue paused for a moment before leaning in to inspect the prince and his injury.

“What was that all about?” Mortor wondered aloud, as if she didn’t know.

“Not sure,” Vancleef sighed. “But I know I would rather fight a priest then a black dragon.”

“You know, I didn’t believe you when you claimed he really was the prince.” Mortor watched as Vancleef looked over the prince for any weapons. “How’d you know?”

“It was too good to be true. A surviving spawn of Onyxia teaming up with us to truly give Wrynn everything he deserves.” Vancleef answered, a weight felt within her chest.

“Why would you wish to team up with Onyxia after everything she did to Stormwind? To Lady Ellerian?” Mortor pressed.

Vancleef glared at the elder mage. “Not Onyxia herself, her spawn! Onyxia helped Wrynn ruin Stormwind, further draining Westfall of her resources, and she herself murdered the only uncorrupt noble there ever was. A child seeking vengeance is what I hoped to connect with. That our hatred could burn a hole through Wrynn’s head a million times over.”

Mortor looked down from Vancleef to Anduin, unconscious against the rather hot and dirty stone. The mage noticed small droplets of blood falling from the prince’s head onto the stone, hardening in the heat and cracking seconds upon contact. She looked back to the rogue.

“Ready to leave?” She asked.

“I’ve been ready.” Vancleef said, picking up the body as Mortor began casting.

-...-

Wrathion landed upon the hot stone path leading up and into the entrance of Blackrock Mountain. He gazed up at the mountain, taking it in for all it’s glory. A beautiful place, inhabited by awful people. He glanced down around the mountain at the pits of bubbling lava and thought about how oddly quiet they were.

In the corner of his vision, he saw something odd staining the ground not far from where he stood. Stepping closer, the black dragon examined what remained of “fresh” blood pooled on the stone. The fact that he could even tell what it was meant it had not been there very long.

He huffed, looking back up at the entrance to the mountain.

Whether or not Anduin was inside, Wrathion would find out what called out to him and why...

-...-

The first thing Anduin felt as he came back to consciousness was a horrible uncomfortable mass surrounding his neck. Upon realizing that the feeling was familiar, Anduin woke up, sitting up to feel around his neck for the thing that caused his discomfort.

The collar.

The one that was originally placed on him back in Stormwind by Left. Or was it Right? Or was it Wrathion? Anduin couldn’t remember that specific moment very well anymore. All he could remember was how the collar was used to suppress much of his abilities, such as his connection to the light.

Anduin tried to call out for the light, not for any big spell, but for mental comfort. He did not feel anything.

It was dark, where he was, and the ground he laid on was nothing but dirt. Slightly moist, with most certainly a bug crawling around nearby. Anduin looked around to find that beside him was a rather old wooden bed with an itchy thin blanket and a poor excuse of a mattress. The boards holding up the mattress were broken, and the wooden frame of the bed was covered in scratches and writing.

It was far too dark for Anduin to see anything else in the room he was in, but he could read a few of the things written on the bed.

Upon first glance, they were not very pretty things, and he could tell his own last name was somewhere in that mess, so he elected to not read anything.

Anduin took a few deep breaths and tried to remember how he got here. He knew he was heading towards Blackrock Mountain. He knew someone there could help him with his questions. Why did he have the powers of a black dragon? Why now? What did this make him? He couldn’t remember getting into Blackrock though….

Ah. He’d been stopped. By Vancleef. Perfect.

Suddenly Anduin grabbed for the crystal necklace, finding it placed within his shirt. Anger surged within his system again as he remembered how the necklace was used against him. He gripped the crystal and tugged hard on it, attempting to break the necklace from his neck. However the necklace, though formed by a rather pitiful looking thin rope, didn’t break. There wasn’t even a tare.

“What the-?” Anduin growled, grabbing the crystal with both claws and pulling, ignoring the pain on his neck as the rope held together.

A light flickered on, causing the prince to freeze.

A few feet in front of him, on the other side of cell bars, sat Vancleef on an old wooden stool chair. She had with her an oil lamp, which spread light across the darkness.

They were underground. Possibly under Moonbrooke.

“It’s enchanted.” She said. “Soulbound to you. Forcefully.”

Anduin frowned, giving up on the task.

“Soulbound just means no one else can use it.”

Vancleef shrugged. “I don’t argue with what the mage tells me. Not usually.”

Anduin glanced around the room, seeing more old furniture, long past rotted.

“I need to get to Blackrock.”

Vancleef stood from the chair, placing the lamp on the chair in her place.

“What do YOU want with cultists?” She fired back. “Last time I checked, black dragons and cultists don’t mix.”

“They have answers!” Anduin replied.

“And you,” Vancleef pointed, “will answer to me.”

Anduin rolled his eyes. “What do you want?!”

Vancleef looked aghast. “I- Vengence! Vengeance is what I want! For Westfall, for Moonbrooke, for my people, and for my father!! And YOU will be the one who helps pay it!”

Anduin stood up from the ground, not bothering to brush off his clothes. “Do you ever stop to think WHY Stormwind isn’t giving you any aid?!”

“How DARE you even-”

“You ever stop to think that maybe people don’t want to help you because you create terror wherever you go? Stormwind citizens f e a r you.” Anduin snapped, remembering all of the nightmares he was haunted by as a young child. “ALL you’ve EVER tried to do my entire life is try to kill me! Why in the LIGHT would you think you’d get funds for that!? Paying you would only get the job done faster!”

“You are not the one we want dead! I will not rest till it is your father who lays still six feet under!”

“You JUST said-” Anduin shook his head in disbelief. “THEN WHY AM I HERE!?”

“You are the means to a different end. Providing the king of Stormwind the head of his only child may be the only way to get our point across!”

“Would that have worked for YOUR father the other way around!?” Anduin asked. “Your actions will only lead to the fall of Westfall!”

Vancleef couldn’t take it any longer, snuffing out the lamp and leaving.

“Westfall has already fallen!”

-...-

Anduin was, yet again, a prisoner of the Defias, only this time they knew they had him. And they were not treating him like an ally. BUT they weren’t treating him as completely awful as he expected, especially considering his argument with their leader that morning. Maybe it was the collar around his neck, but something seemed to give them much more confidence when around him.

It was mostly definitely the collar.

Cocky sons of bitches paraded him around Moonbrooke and the Defias base. While initially infuriating, there was more to it than just laughing to his face.

There had always been more to it, and as Anduin saw the reactions to his capture, saw the rebuilding of the burned Moonbrooke building, he realized that he had ignored all that he had learned just days ago.

These people were not his enemy, yet he had been theirs. Westfall did not deserve punishment for what the Defias did.

Vancleef kept the prince close to her, the collar his main restriction, however some rather tightly bound chains held his hands together, connected to a chain she held. He wasn’t going to get away easily, and even if he could, they’d just track him down...again.

There were many people out and about despite being early morning. Anduin watched as men worked on the burned down building. A group of people seemed to be preparing for a hunt. Many children were running around and playing. He and Vancleef and the many Defias members surrounding him had awalked from outside the underground caverns to the kitchen building, where morning meals were being prepared.

Anduin walked alongside Vancleef as she carried food to other buildings, giving what food they had to the most starving of the lot.

Part of this was a show, but deep in his heart Anduin knew that this was a normal activity for her.

She wanted him to see the “evil” people in Westfall, the horrible acts they commited on a daily basis such as be a community and feed each other and...yeah, he got their point. He’d seen his mistake before. This still didn’t make the Defias good, but that wasn’t what Vancleef wanted him to see.

They were returning dishes to the kitchen when Anduin noticed a few children playing rather roughly beside a tree. Three boys, two girls. One of the girls was fairly high up in the three, far too high up for her age. The children below were cheering her higher despite the look of fear on her face.

Forgetting his current position, he watched as the girl lost her grip on the tree and began to fall. His heart leaped, as did he, as he tried to rush forward just in time to catch her.

He gasped as the chains snagged him backwards, causing him to fail, the girl hitting the ground with a loud thump.

“Escaping?!” Vancleef tugged on the chains, pulling him closer to her and the Defias members.

Anduin shot glares at her while motioning towards the girl. “NO! I was going to save her from that head injury she just got!”

Vancleef looked up to see the little girl crying, rubbing her head as blood dripped down from her hair onto the ground. The girl’s friends circled around her, though none of them could calm her down or even help. How Vancleef could be so a part of the scene and yet not see this happen…

Vancleef angirly huffed, kicking Anduin up, forcing him to walk forward towards the girl. Confused, Anduin felt Vancleef hold him hostage style, her chest closely pressing into his back as she unlocked the collar from his neck. She replaced it with the chains, holding them tightly in a very similarly threatening manner.

Feeling the presence of the light, Anduin got the idea and followed directions.

Anduin knelt down by the girl, the children stepping back cautiously as he approached. Though his wrists were still bound, he didn’t need much hand movement to call down the light to his aid. He ignored the pull on his neck and focused on spellcasting, gently touching his hand to the young girl’s head, the girl frozen in fear unsure of what was going on.

A yellow sparkling glow came from Anduin’s hands, spreading to the girl and slowly silencing her pain, stopping the source of blood. The girl watched to the best of her ability, amazed by the Light and how sudden she felt better. The spell went on for a minute or two, each passing second the impact of the injury lessening.

As Anduin pulled back, calling off the spell, he smiled gently to the girl.

“With some rest you will be good as new.” He said, hoping the whole hostage look wouldn’t have a lasting impression on her.

With that, Anduin sighed, turning the best he could to look towards Vancleef.

“Is there anyone else who needs healing while I’m here?”

-...-

When it was the raven who flew into the throne room, and not the man behind the feathers, Varian knew something was deeply wrong.

The bird landed in the middle of the room, breaking the high king from deep thought. Switching to his humanoid form, Khadgar’s staff slammed down upon the marble floor, echoing across the entire keep.

“The Burning Legion-”

The words alone brought Varian up off the throne.

“-has returned!”

-...-

It was later.

He found himself sitting in the shade, Vancleef sitting beside him. Her hands still gripped the chains but they weren’t around his neck. The collar was returned in its place. He couldn’t feel the light, and maybe that’s why he felt so angry earlier, but now he didn’t think he needed it.

“...and, I mean, I’m pretty sure they’d only formed after her death.” He paused. “I wouldn’t know. I was there, but I was three.”

“They say memories begin to hold on when you’re three years old.”

“Not years. Weeks.” Anduin shook his head. “I was three weeks old when my mother died.”

“...oh.” Vancleef hesitated in her words. “I’d always assumed you were...older.”

“Everyone does. Even those who were there when it happened.” Anduin replied. “Memories are faulty. Especially with human brains.”

“Which is unfair.” Vancleef added. “We at most only need to remember 70 years. Everyone else on Azeroth have hundreds if not thousands of years in their head. How do they remember anything?”

Vancleef continued. “But, you’re right. The Defias formed after Lady Ellerian’s death. That riot would later lead to our formation, but the rock that was thrown was not us. It was Onyxia.”

“I was told that Onyxia formed the Defias as well.”

Vancleef dug her nails into the bench they sat on. “Onyxia had a hand in everything. That doesn’t erase the fact that the Defias formed because working men were refused payment for work they completed. We built your city and we starved for it. All while your father laid upon a golden throne feasting on roasted boar every night.”

“That. That wasn’t my father. He was under Onyxia’s charm.”

Vancleef glared at Anduin briefly before staring off ahead.

“Onyxia was killed years ago, and yet we’ve still not received our payment.”

When Anduin didn’t reply, Vancleef continued.

“Lady Ellerian was the only uncorrupt noble. She stood up for us. She fought for our food, our pay, and for resources to improve Westfall. She wanted to give wealth to Westfall, at least until it stood at level with Elwynn Forest. In return Westfall would give working men and women and farmland to feed the entire Alliance.”

Vancleef glanced at Anduin again, seeing genuine curiosity within him.

“How much do you really know about your mother?”

“Not as much as I thought…”

Vancleef smirked, continuing her story.

“It made sense too, that she would fight so hard for us. Her family was from Westfall. The Ellerian nobel family only owned land in Westfall. It was their only claim to noble life. We all loved her,” Vancleef frowned sorrowfully. “, and her marriage to Varian was what Westfall needed.”

Vancleef paused for a moment to collect her thoughts, Anduin waiting patiently as she did.

“With her dead and no chance in hell of payment, my father formed the Defias.” She let out a heavy breath, looking away from Anduin’s direction. “There was n o o n e left in the noble class to protect them, so they formed to protect themselves.”

She felt her arm shake. “And...And then he- They killed my father. I was there. I saw it. And ever since then i’ve d r e a m e d of avenging him.”

Anduin leaned slightly.

“I….I had n o idea.” He said.”I’m so sorry.”

“Dont.” Quickly, Vancleef snapped back. “I know you don’t. You were a baby. You’re still a child. I don’t expect you to have been given the truth.”

Vancleef leaned back against the bench. “Besides, a group of people wanted your father dead. I’d hate them too if I were you. I’m in a similar position. Only...big difference, is, they succeeded. They managed to kill my father.”

Anduin wanted to comfort her, but no words of meaning came to mind. All he could do was repeat himself.

“I’m….i’m sorry, Vanessa.”

Vancleef stood up, stretching slightly.

“Do NOT take my understanding as an apology of some kind. Don’t ask for an apology.” She shook away whatever sorrow her faced showed. “MY people STILL deserve justice. YOUR family still owes us a debit it REFUSES to pay!”

Anduin looked up at her, and as their eyes met, Vancleef quickly looked away, down to her feet.

“I just don’t know if seeking you out for payment is going to satisfy my need for vengeance.”

There was another moment of silence in their conversation before Anduin picked back up.

“Let me speak to my father. I can get through to him, I know.” He said, almost desperately. “All of this was Onyxia’s fault, if anyone’s blood should spill it was hers.”

“Then bring me the head of her offspring!” Vancleef gripped the chain in her hands with her growing anger. “Oh, wait!”

Anduin shook his head. “I’m not-! We killed all of her eggs. All of her whelps!”

Vancleef laughed. “You sure do look a lot like her as a dragon. Funny coincidence, huh!?”

“I’m still trying to find answers, that’s why I was going to Blackrock!”

Vancleef’s voice rose. “The offspring of Wrynn, some kind of descendant of Prestor, and your ONLY redeeming lineage is Ellerian!” She yelled. “you are lucky to look and act sooo much like her!”

Vancleef pulled on the chain, leaning closer to Anduin in a threatening manner.

“For had you not such beautiful blonde hair, I doubt you’d be so welcomed here in her homeland.”

-...-

Anduin, when Vancleef had calmed down again, asked more about his mother’s family. He asked if there were any left, or if they had anything left in Westfall. Vancleef didn’t know the answers, but pointed him in the direction of someone who may have.

Anduin, though still baring the uncomfortable collar, no longer had chains around his wrists. He stretched his arms freely as he walked across Moonbrooke. Inside one of the housing buildings, Anduin found an elderly woman named Willow. She sat alone, near a window, in a rocking chair, in a long purple flowery dress. She had a caine resting beside her chair. She looked exactly as Vancleef had described her.

She was also blind. She made no move to recognize her visitor. Not till he spoke, though Anduin knew she knew he was there.

“Can you tell me anything about the Ellerians?” Anduin asked, sitting on the edge of the window, a feet or two away from the woman’s chair.

“The who now?” The woman thought deeply for a second, then grinned. “OH! Why yes! I used to know them! I knew them pretty well!”

Anduin smiled, watching as the woman became so expressive, her foggy eyes looking up into nothing.

“Mister and Misses Ellerian, oh they were considered nobles but they didn’t much care for the noble life style. Refused to live in Stormwind. Wanted to remain here in ol’ Westfall, only traveled to the big city when absolutely necessary.” She recalled.

“Really?” Anduin pressed on, intrigued by the information.

The old woman nodded her head. “Sometimes they just didn’t go at all, sent a representative. Their representative was usually their child, which may seem strange but their lil girl was a smart cookie. Sweet girl, wasn’t easy to fool.”

“What was her name?”

“Tiffy! I think. That’s what I remember callin’ her anyway.” The woman laughed. “Well, would you be surprised, one day the Ellerians were approached by the Great King Llane Wrynn about an arranged marriage! Wanted to marry his only son to the Ellerian’s only daughter.”

Anduin made a small gasp, enjoying the story telling. “Really?!”

“Oh yes! All of Westfall was about in tears, ready to celebrate. The Ellerians agreed to the marriage, of course. Nothing bad could ever come from it!” The woman paused. “They unfortunately passed before they could see their daughter wed, but Tiffy vowed to make the most of her arranged marriage.”

Anduin wanted to ask more about his grandparents, however didn’t yet want to stop the woman’s story telling. He made a mental note to do so later.

“But I know, I think we all knew, that deep down inside Tiffy hated the idea. Had no choice in it. Tried to rebel once.”

“She rebelled?” Anduin asked.

“Oh she was a brave girl, no one could stop her. Ran off, went missing for a while, scared the light out of her parents.”

“I-” Anduin couldn’t help but remember his own adventure in Pandaria. “I didn’t know.”

“Rumor has it she ran off with some boyfriend, but whatever happened she didn’t return with him, so who knows. Came back when her parents died and sometime after the funeral she moved to Stormwind. Accepted her fate to be wed out of love.” The woman sighed sadly. “We all missed her dearly.”

“Do you...do you think she ever loved him?”

“Hmmmm” The old woman pondered for a moment. “Those last few years, I’m sure she did. You could tell she smiled more often, held his hand more often.”

Anduin smiled. He knew about this part of the story to some degree, his father told him about it. That he and Tiffin hated each other at the start, couldn’t stand to hear the other talk. It took time for them to understand each other and to bond off that, but they did eventually come to love each other deeply. Varian loved Tiffin sooo much that he could never love anyone in the same way. Refused to take on a new queen, not even a consort.

“We were heartbroken by her death.” The woman continued. “We heard little after that, and then that was it.”

Anduin watched as the woman talked.

“We heard very little of her baby boy, most of us had decided that he wasn’t an Ellerian. Not properly, at least. Didn’t care about him.” She spoke. “They said, oh she won’t be there to raise ‘im! He won’t get anything from her, not since she’s gone! He is a Wrynn! A wrynn and only a Wrynn, they said, cuz they felt he had no attachment to Westfall at all.”

“Oh…”

She shifted in her chair slightly.

“Claimed his father’s actions after that only furthered that belief.” Willow paused, then smiled. “Oh, but they? They were wrong.”

“What?” Anduin felt a shift in body language, and suddenly a story told openly to anyone was now directly solely at him. Directly at him, as if she could see into his soul.

“The woman gave you her looks, her charm, her charisma, her affinity to the Light.” She grinned. “No, you are here now, and I can see that you care.”

The woman reached out her land, motioning for Anduin to react. Slowly, in his disbelief, Anduin placed his hands in hers, the old woman holding onto his, shaking them in a similar fashion of a greeting.

“Son of Tiffin, Westfall needs you.” She said, her gaze still nowhere near Anduin. “Will you answer her pleas?”

Anduin felt tears swell in his eyes as his hands shook in her grasp. He shook her hands back.

“Of course, I will.”

-...-

-...-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very happy with this chapter, I think it's my favorite so far. The dialog I'm rather pleased with. Please please let me know what you think!! I'm trying to get back in the mood of posting more often! Your comments are big motivators and I'm really happy you all still enjoy the fic!! <3 <3 <3


	10. A Wrynn's Debt

-...-

Varian Wrynn sat at his desk, drink nearby, working away at paperwork. The only lights in the room were a small candle by his work, so he could see, the fireplace across from him, and the flash of lightning every now and then from the windows and the open balcony doors. The doors were open slightly, purposely, the sound of rain being something that comforted the man, even in the darkest of times. 

As Varian penned an order to extend the military, and to increase spending near tenfold, the balcony doors swung open, banging against the wall. 

Varian looked up, placing the pen down, to see Valeera Sanguinar walking in, drenched in rain. The blood elf unhooked her knives and threw them to the floor, the knives hardly making a sound due to the carpet. She then collapsed to her knees, shaking, crying out, sobbing. Her hands hid her face, frustration wrecking her soul. 

She very well looked just how Varian felt. Sighing, the king set his work aside, downed his drink, and left the desk to comfort Valeera. 

“I can’t find him.” Valeera managed to get out through her crying.

Varian was never great at comforting anyone, but he tried his best as he sat down on the carpet beside her, placing his hand on her shoulder. 

She leaned closer to him, ignoring the water dripping onto him. 

“I’ve looked everywhere.” She shook her head. “I spent days in Westfall but every lead came short. I went to Stranglethorn, Duskwood, Elwynn, RedRidge, even Deadwind Pass but that was just because they surrounded the area.”

Before Varian could get in a word, she continued.

“I hounded Shaw for every lead he could give me, I asked the other leaders to see if they’d heard from him and went to every place I could connect him too. Pandaria I was so sure about, he’d feel safest there if not here or the Exodar, but no!” She shuddered. “I even went to Orgrimmar.”

“Valeera-”

She glared at him. “I had to know. Vol’jin wouldn’t hurt him but I know others who would.”

“You didn’t tell him everything, do you?” Varian asked, unsure how he felt about the Horde being dragged into this. 

“No.” Valeera pulled her knees to her chest. “Only that he’d gone missing over a week ago. That we didn’t expect him to place aside resources, but that if he heard any word of him….”

Valeera let out a breath, her body drained of energy. She’d been working on finding Anduin ever since she found out he went missing. She became desperate to find him when Varian told her about Chromie’s findings, and near lost it upon receiving news that the Burning Legion was at their doors. 

Losing her younger brother hurt so much. 

Valeera wasn’t a Wrynn, but the Wrynns were her family. Ever since she met Anduin, they’d been like siblings. She was young then, and Anduin even younger. She’d finally found people who cared for her, a stable lifestyle after the hardships of being an orphan in gladiator combat. Anduin finally had someone close to him who wasn’t forced to act like a strict adult all the damn time. Anduin referred to her as his older sister, just as she referred to him as her little brother. 

Varian never saw Valeera as a daughter, but she was very much a child when considering how long blood elves lived. As a gladiator, he’d felt responsible for her safety, especially when she acted careless or without thought. Now, she was one of his closest friends, someone he could trust with anything.She even took the role as his personal bodyguard.

She was not bound by faction, not by flag, not by blood. She followed in the shadows of Varian and Anduin Wrynn. It was where she wanted to be. 

She would do anything for them. 

She would search for Anduin till she died. 

The two sat there, the rain continuing to beat down outside, and despite the leaking cold from the open doors, the fireplace still kept them warm. Valeera leaned against Varian, her sobs going quiet, slowly warming up. Long ago, Varian would have grown uncomfortable sitting on the floor in silence, however over the years he’s learnt how to deal with people even in their most open and personal moments. While he was never, and still isn't, really comforted by these actions, he knows that Valeera is much the same way Anduin is in these situations. The two enjoy the background noise, enjoy having someone to lean on, enjoy having someone to listen to them. 

Anduin once believed that Varian’s anger stemmed from his inability to find comfort the same way, and would push for his father to open up, to talk about what bothered him. Sometimes, sometimes, it worked, however most of the time Varian couldn’t find the words to properly express how he felt, and if he did, his anger boiled. Anduin stopped pushing for his father to talk, but continued to sit and spend time around his father. 

That, as simple of an action it was, worked more than anything else Anduin ever tried. 

And now Anduin wasn’t here to spend time with him, to sit and read a book in the corner of the office while his father worked, or to stand beside the throne. 

“I received a letter some time ago…”

Varian felt Valeera sit back, looking at him, calmer then she was minutes ago. 

“An invitation.” She seemed to hesitate before continuing, “to join the Uncrowned.”

Varian frowned, unsure what to make of that. “Sounds like a rogue thing.”

Valeera smiled at his reaction. “I’m going to see if I can find others to help look.”

Varian really doubted how many others would give up time focused on the Burning Legion to look for his son, but truly appreciated how dedicated Valeera was. 

It hurt. Had he not a kingdom to run, a faction to lead, an army to prepare for world wide war, he’d be doing the same as her. He’d be out there, looking, and he wouldn’t stop. 

The older Varian got, the more wars that go by, the more he found himself wishing a life of peace. Only, he began thinking that he’d wished it as a time without war. Now, he wished he could ignore war. War would never stop, but if he could give the crown away and take Anduin and move to some unknown place in neutral territory, he probably would. 

Would Anduin join him? 

Anduin has told him before, briefly, that he often dreamed what life would be like without the pressures of the crown. Varian was sure Anduin did much more than dream about it. But, Anduin also had a heart of gold and a love for his people that would never die. He’d give up his wants, his safety, in a heartbeat to protect and improve the lives of others. Anduin would suffer the throne in order to ensure a better life for his people. 

Varian was never like that. 

He maybe did, as a child, before his father died and his kingdom burned. However, growing up as a landless king, a ruler with nothing to rule, watching as another prince gets to have it all - his kingdom, his family, the love of his people- while hearing the whispers of nobles plot to take all that you have left. He desired a new Stormwind, half because he felt it was his job, half because he couldn’t let his father’s legacy waste away. It was Tiffin that eventually inspired a love for what he had and it hurt to know that all of that was spoiled by Onyxia.

Now he had Anduin and everything he did was for him. The only reason his royal half snapped out of Onyxia’s charm was for Anduin. The only reason his gladiator half returned to Stormwind was because he remembered he had a son. Both of his halves despised each other, would’ve never worked together had Anduin not been around. 

Varian realized his mind had drifted away when Valeera placed her hand on his shoulder. 

“You good?” She asked. It wasn’t a question asking if he was happy or doing fine, but if he was stable mentally and emotionally. 

He hesitated, but he talked. 

“The Burning Legion is attacking, Valeera.” He met her look. “And my son is missing.”

He let out a deep breath.

“Again.”

-...-

Wrathion knew much about the Twilight Hammer cult, including their origins with the old Horde, the Burning Legion, and their desire for destruction. The doomsday Twilight cultists lived deep within Blackrock at the moment, huddled in the light of the lava, continuing to seek out the next big end of the world villain to follow and praise. They chanted and cast spells and carved on tablets and walls and wrote scriptures and prepared for their prophecies to come true. 

Wrathion expected all of this, sure, but he hadn’t expected to sneak into their lair just as a mini uprising was taking place. 

It wasn’t massive, nothing to worry about by the leaders, but there were a considerable amount of cultists crying out, seeking answers. 

“Where is he!?”

“You said he would arrive!”

“The dragon prince must be here for us to-”

“ENOUGH!”

A tall woman in a dark cloak walked over, calm and mysterious, standing before the crowd atop a stone stage. As Wrathion watched her appear, he wondered about the title of dragon prince, knowing who they referred to. Anduin was a dragon, but he was the prince of a human kingdom, thus the human prince. Did they imply Anduin to be the heir of the blackflight? Because that was his own title, Black Prince. No, they must be specifically Onyxia’s heir. He hoped. 

Though it was a very real possibility that the cultists wanted to corrupt Anduin to take the “throne” from himself AND Wrathion. Why try corrupting Wrathion when Anduin could gain you the thrones of both the Blackflight AND the Alliance. Wrathion refused to entertain this, shaking his thoughts away. 

“There is no need to worry,” The woman spoke. “Time is on our side.”

“But-”

The woman shushed any protests, slightly growling. 

“Be patient. Alnyxia and Logothian will rule Azeroth together, in time,” She reminded them “as the prophecy says.”

Logothian? Wrathion didn’t recognize the name, and his stomach felt a bit ill thinking there was ANOTHER black dragon he didn’t know about who could be of great threat. 

The crowd below was quiet, and the woman began to walk, placing her hands behind her back, “As long as we do everything correctly, and wait, we will receive all that we desired.”

“My lady, the Burning Legion draws near! How will this affect our plans?” One brave fool asked, causing the woman to pause in her steps. 

“We will wait until they are defeated. The legion believes themselves strong, but the all seeing eye has seen our future. Know that they are not a problem.”

Some of the cultists seemed happy with that, but Wrathion could sense the anxiousness from others. He himself felt surprised by the lady’s words. It was as if the cultists had no history with the Burning Legion. Had they broken off? Was this a new set of cultists? None of this sat well in his stomach, as the only reasons Wrathion could come up with was that they found a greater threat then the Burning Legion. 

“As long as Alnyxia is not with us he is endangered to the Legion’s hands. As is Logo-”

“Calm down, child.” The woman was growing angry with their worries. “ Alnyxia is far more powerful than any demon. They can hurt him, but he will overcome.”

She spoke somewhat lower, clearing her throat. “As for the other, though his position is much more vulnerable at this moment, I do not doubt him as a survivor.”

Wrathion frowned. So whoever Logothian was, he was weaker than Anduin. Despite that, the cultists seemed content that this less powerful dragon would live through the Legion’s attack. 

“Lady Xanesh, one last question, please!”

The cultists knew they were at a line, anger growing in the woman’s body language. 

“You continue to question him, though if it makes your faith stronger I will answer….”

There was hesitation. The cultist leader seemed tolerant of being questioned, which was something new to Wrathion. Before, he was sure any member stepping out of line would result in death, or punishment. Was this truely a new subset of the Twilight Hammer? What leader did they follow who did not worry about such insubordination? 

“Many fear that because his powers have not awoken, he will parish to the Legion. We believe some of us should go undercover and ensure he returns from each battle against the demons.”

The woman paused, seemed to get a bit angry, then suddenly her temperament stilled. 

“We have eyes everywhere and on everyone. Remember that.”

It didn’t seem to be the answer the cultists wanted, but it was what they got. 

“Return to your stations.” The woman ordered. “I know that you will not fail me again.”

The cultists bowed and vanished, returning to wherever they came from within the mountain. Some left the room entirely, while others returned to posts within the same room. The woman, no longer needing to entertain the idiots she led, hurried back into the darkness of rooms further within the lair. With the woman gone, Wrathion realized that the wall she stood in front of had carvings in it. 

Careful, the black dragon attempted to get closer to the carvings, doing all in his power not to give away his position. Nearly tripping, he found a place closer to the wall, close enough to see what the carvings said. He held his breath, a few cultists not far from him. Any move could give him away. 

He strained his eyes, seeing what he thought were words actually were drawings. Drawings of dragons. Black dragons. He recognized the curved horns of onyxian dragons, including the brood mother Onyxia herself. Beside her, what Wrathion believed was a carving of a whelp. It looked like Anduin, however something seemed off about his horns and wings. He was too far away to tell exactly why. 

There was another dragon, one not of Onyxian blood. He looked like an older Wrathion, and Wrathion wondered for a moment if it was himself. He could see similar features, the golden hoops, the horns, the scar-

The scar?

Wrathion had scars, little ones, but he didn’t have scars on his face. Not like those scars. 

There was something familiar about those set of scars though. One went down through the left eyes, the other connected with it across the bridge of his nose. 

Those were Varian Wrynn’s scars. 

And then it clicked for Wrathion. 

Logothian. 

Lo’gosh. 

The cultists were worried about Varian dying to the Burning Legion, because Varian’s powers haven’t been activated like Anduin’s. 

Which meant that Varian DID suffer the same fate as Anduin.

Wrathion knew he needed to return to Stormwind, if not to tell Varian than to atleast test him with the mage’s runes. 

-...-

Anduin frowned, pencil in hand, leaning back and forth on an old desk chair with broken feet. He sat at a desk, in a darkened room, with a candle lighting up the paper below him. He wasn’t chained up to anything, had no cuffs, he didn’t need to be. Still across his neck was the crystal necklace, soulbound to him by a magic spell he couldn’t dispell. He could leave, surely, but they would always be able to find him as long as he still had the crystal. 

Despite that, he plotted his escape anyway. It seemed Vanessa Vancleef wasn’t too worried about losing him again, and Anduin knew that even if he left he was still bound to Westfall and Moonbrook. He made a promise to help these people, and if he was going to return to Stormwind to put that promise into action, he needed to fix his dragon problem. 

He would stay just long enough to finish healing some of the Moonbrook citizens, but hopefully by nightfall he’d be on his way out. In the meantime, he penned a letter to Vancleef, spending time to carefully plan his wording. In it, he promised to give Westfall aid from Stormwind as soon as he returned to the city, though he couldn’t promise how quickly that could happen. In order to return home he needed to find proof of his identity, for his father only saw him as a spawn of Onyxia. He believed he knew a place where he could find it. He didn’t go into many details. 

Ending the letter, he returned to his promise. He was blind to the truth, ignored their suffering, and for it he was wrong. He will make up for it, for all the hardships the citizens of Westfall suffered. A time of good health would be coming for Westfall. 

Escaping solitude, Prince Anduin walked outside, to the open streets of Moonbrook. The small town appeared lively this afternoon. A hunting party was just arriving from their outing, and it appeared that the gods had given them luck, for the boars they claimed seemed unusually large this time. 

“Well if it isn’t the young prince!” 

Anduin turned to see, from inside one of the nearby open buildings, a few middle-aged women. Realizing they called him, he hurried inside to find a wooden spoon shoved into his hands. 

“I hope they teach you royals to cook,” one of the women laughed. “We’re in need of some help.”

Anduin smiled, slightly embarrassed. He’d learned basics from watching others and from surviving the wilds of Pandaria on his own, but he was never confident in those cooking skills. 

“I’ll try my best!”

Anduin spent the next hour alongside them as they helped cook lunch for Moonbrook, following along with each step and doing whatever they asked him to do. He found himself somewhat clumsy, but the women were all very nice to him. Outwardly, he noticed. When he wasn’t watching he could tell one or two of them were acting. It didn’t matter, he understood why, and he at least appreciated that they tried. 

After the cooking was done, Anduin helped distribute food to those across the town.. While he still ached due to his wounds from Garrosh, he had the light to help control them. Speaking of the light, as soon as Anduin completed his task with distributing food, he went to help heal those in need at Moonbrook’s church. 

Walking inside the church, it’s pews were old and splintered, it’s windows broken and boarded up, and yet it seemed just as lively as the Cathedral in Stormwind. Though Moonbrook had a small population of light followers, they were dedicated in their faith. On top of that, the building also acted as a place to give care to the injured. There were a few priests and one or two trained medics in the building, using both the light and cotton wrappings to help those who are in need. 

“Ah, finally.” One of the medics hurried over to him. “Vancleef said you’d be helping.”

Anduin nodded his head. “Whatever you need.”

The medic sighed, leaning in a bit closer. “Between you and i,” she said, glancing to the priests she worked with. “Whatever they’re praying to, it’s not listening.”

Anduin looked passed her towards the priests, watching them for a moment as they continued. Whatever they were doing, Anduin didn’t yet see any yellow light. Didn’t see anything else either. He was sure he was told that this was a church under the light. Maybe he was told wrong about their priests, and they weren’t really as good as others claimed. 

“Odd,” Anduin gulped, turning back to the medic. “I can assure you, the Light is here. I require it to walk properly.”

“That is good-” She paused, “Unfortunate! I meant unfortunate! You shouldn’t need it’s aid just to walk!” 

Anduin chuckled, “No worries.”

The medic showed Anduin to the worst of the worst, informing him on their conditions, their needs, and helping him should he need it. Yet, most of her time was spent watching Anduin in awe as he seemed to be able to get people back on their feet and out of the door much faster than believed. A young teen with an infected cut, a hunter with a broken ankle, a dislocated shoulder, the list went on. 

As Anduin tended to them, the other few medics seemed to watch, having little to no more patients to attend to after Anduin’s aid. The few priests, however, either seemed to ignore Anduin or glance over occasionally with a glare. They refused to hand of the people they were seeing, and Anduin did not push, not wanting to step over a boundary in another’s church, should it not be of the Light. 

As the sun passed over and the sky grew hot, Anduin walked out of the church. A group of kids were drawing in the sand with sticks, and when Anduin approached them, they kicked over their drawings, hurrying away. Though the people of Moonbrook have seen him walk around, many still did not trust him, and the kids were especially shy.

“Hey!”

That said, Yulia seemed to enjoy his return. 

“Yulia.” Anduin smiled as the curly haired girl ran up to him. 

“You’re back!” She ran into him, giving him a rather tight hug. Anduin laughed, hugging her gently back. 

Yulia giggled, Anduin kneeling down to be more level with her. Doing so allowed the girl a better look at his horns, so he let her awe over them. They were like bone, though Anduin was unsure what they really were made of, and if they were actually part of his skull like actual dragons. It was difficult for him to determine why they showed up, still not sure exactly why the ruin reacted to him, but at the moment he was sure it was something like an illusion. He hoped, despite how...real they felt. 

“Do they get dull? Do you have to sharpen them?” Yulia asked, poking the horn as if it might bite her. “What if it breaks? Does it grow back? Like lizards tails?”

Anduin smiled at her questions, deciding whether to tell the truth - that he didn’t know - or to make a fun answer up for her. 

“No, they don’t grow back.” Anduin said, tugging at his right horn. “If it breaks you have to glue it back.”

“Glue!?” Yulia gasped. “Magic glue??”

“Glue made from lizard tails.” Anduin replied. 

Yulia laughed, taking her time to calm down before suddenly becoming serious. Well, a child-like serious.

“Do your scales grow back?” She asked, “Or do you have to glue those back on too?”

Anduin paused. His scales didn’t grow back, he’d know for he’s lost at least 5 of them, if not more. He lost track, but the areas that showed red skin below were still there. But, that wasn’t fun to a child. 

“They grow back in time, sometimes different colors.” 

“Different colors???” Yulia looked amazed. “Do you have any that aren't black?”

Anduin shook his head. “No, but if you wait for the next batch, you might find some purples.”

“What about blue?? I love blue!!”

Anduin shook his head. “I don’t know, but I do know there are dragons who use arcane magic and their scales are blue.”

“Cool!!” She seemed to jump around at the idea of blue dragons. “I wanna be a blue dragon!” 

Anduin laughed, watching her as she jumped away her enormous amount of energy. When she slowed down she seemed to get a little shy, holding her arms behind her back. 

“I-uhm,” She hesitated. “Can I ask you something?”

“What do you need?” Anduin nodded. 

Her voice seemed to get softer, “Vanessa took the scale you gave me. Can I have another?”

Anduin paused, frowning slightly. Why would Vancleef take the scale? How’d she know Yulia had one? Did Yulia show it off to her? The little girl did really love Vancleef, and the woman showed her love as an older sister would. Or...or did Vanessa find it the same way they tracked him down? It seemed stupid, it was tracking the other necklace, but again something seemed off. 

In his thinking, he hadn't realized how obvious his hesitation was to the girl. 

“Of course you can have another.”

Anduin took a deep breath, reaching up his sleeve to pick off another one of his own scales. He could feel the pain before it happened, yet snapped it off quickly. The skin below grew red, sensitive. He hid the pain, pulling another scale from seemingly nowhere for the young girl. He held it out for her.

“Promise to protect it and hold it tightly.” He instructed her, placing it in her hands. “It is yours and no one elses’”

“Thank you!” Yulia was grinning, holding her hands around the scale, warming it up in the palm of her hand. 

Anduin stood up from kneeling, placing his hand of her shoulder. “Now, let’s go see if W-”

Anduin stopped, looking down at the girl to see her in a horrified stare. Confused, he realized she was staring up at the sky, behind him. Before Anduin could look away, Yulia screeched, holding her scale to her chest and booking it inside one of the nearest buildings. As she abandoned him, he turned to follow her star. 

In the distance, the sky was green. 

A dark, rumbling sound shook the land, and clouds blocked out the gleaming sun. In the green was neon lightning, echoing across Westfall like a thunderstorm. 

Anduin felt anxiety rise in his chest, his heart beat like crazy, his limbs unable to move and for a moment he was sure his connection to the light fuzzed, for he felt an unimaginable pain within his knees. He felt a darkness trap him, fear stangle his breath, and watched as a large, Legion shipped appeared in the sky. 

Anduin did not snap out of his stun until Vancleef violently shook him.

“Wrynn!” 

Vancleef growled, looking up at the ship, then back to her Defias men. She pointed towards the underground tunnles.

“Get everyone underground, as far in as possible! Take any mage with you, we’ll need portals more than we need arcane missiles!” She shouted, her men doing as told. 

When Vancleef looked back to the prince, she saw fear and hesitation in his eyes. She grabbed a hold of his arm tightly, causing him to look back at her. 

“You ready to repay that debt?” She glared into his eyes, daring him to run now. 

“As if I had a choice.” Anduin replied. 

Anduin wasn’t sure what she wanted him to do, but something was better than nothing. In his stunned state, all he could think about was what he knew of the Burning Legion. That all they did was destroy worlds? Enslave entire plants? What was Anduin, a young human priest, supposed to do in defense that would stop them from murdering this entire town? The entirety of Westfall? 

There are little supplies here in Moonbrook for a proper army, for a proper flight. Westfall wasn’t safe, and none of it helped that he’d burned some of their supplies already. That one of their buildings was burnt down in the last week. Hell, the Legion will destroy everything here, and it was only a matter for time. 

He couldn’t help but wonder if Stormwind had provided proper aid long ago would Westfall be more prepared? Would there be more soldiers to defend civilians? More mage portals to evacuate? Homes and buildings with better defenses? Priests that actually knew what they were doing?

Anduin wanted to run, everyone wanted to run. But he couldn’t, he promised Moonbrook his aid, and he’d stay at least as long as Vancleef would. That was to say, he had no idea how long she would stay, till her dying breath or until as many of her people escaped as possible? 

Anduin didn’t have time to worry, two more ships appearing in the sky. He had to start now for there to be a chance at escape.

“I’ll raise a shield!” Anduin spoke suddenly, as if he wasn’t processing his own words. 

“You’ll what!?” Vancleef let go of his arm. 

“It’ll buy you time to gather those who can fight!” Anduin yelled as he ran off towards the center of town. 

Anduin wasn’t sure what his plan was exactly, but at the moment doing what he could to stall the Legion’s landing into the town seemed like the best idea. It would allow Vancleef more time to get citizens to safety, including those like Willow, who required help even getting down the stairs. It would also allow for her to hopefully build some sort of army defense. Her Defias would follow her dying breath, he hoped, but likely would need more than knives to take on demons. 

Anduin reached what he thought to be the center, beginning to call to the light for aid. Though it was easier to channel light when calm and relaxed, Anduin heard the Light loud and clear. It was almost always there to protect him, and without that damn collar on his neck, he could extend his power to the best of his abilities. He raised his arms into the sky, taking deep breaths, muttering prayers in order to channel the light outward, forming a large dome around him that protected the entire town. 

The light was strong, shining, and sounded like whispers of encouragement. Slowly, bending his knees as the power weighed heavily over his body, he formed the barrier. The light shot into the air, at some point darting off into different directions, arching over the town, hitting the ground. The channeling continued until the dome was complete. 

Anduin gasped, shaking from the intensity of the light and how draining the casting could be. Despite all the light flowing through him, his knees still ached like hell. 

As green started to rain down to the ground in the distant hills, Anduin’s work proved useful. The ships were beaming down demons and warlocks, unable to summon directly into the town. The light shield stopped them, though the only question was for how long? Anduin wasn’t going to pretend, he had no idea how long the barrier would last. It was likely an enemy as powerful as the Legion would know how to dismantle a light barrier, especially after warring with the draenei.

As Anduin finishes with the barrier, Vancleef reappears with her Defias. They make it to the edge of the town and watch as the demons walk closer and closer to the town. Vancleef wouldn’t wait for them to reach the barrier, taking her Defias and attacking the demons first. Anduin called upon the light to aid them, placing temporary light shields on the Defias and their leader, as well as placing a buff upon the party. 

At first, it seemed Vancleef could handle the side attacking her, and with that moment, Anduin knew he should join, make their impact felt more. But, Moonbrook was not the only settlement in Westfall. Sentinel Hill was much better guarded and armed, but they too would not stand a chance. And, as he could see, the legion ships were beginning to drop demons off around the hill, planning to attack it at the same time.

“Vancleef!” Anduin transformed into a whelp, flying over to the leader while helping her take down a cluster of imps. “I’m warning Sentinel Hill! I’ll be back!”

“What!” Vancleef yelled, however couldn’t find the attention to argue with him while demons clashed against her. She growled, knowing she would have to trust him, for he flew off, with or without her permission.

Anduin took off into the air, quick enough to evade any demons that wished to catch him. Sentinel Hill was not far, and the trip only took a minute. However, time was precious, and he could see below the local Westfall populations hurrying into the walls of the settlement. People whom lived in the farmlands riding in, the homeless that surrounded the walls too overpowering any guards that thought stopping them was a good idea. 

Flying over the walls, getting closer, Anduin saw soldiers and workers running around, panicked and caught off guard. They all looked like headless chickens, their commander nowhere in sight. His stomach felt light, realizing that these people were going to die, whether they had full stomachs or not. 

Anduin dropped down to the center of the hill, appearing amongst the chaos in his human form. Many stopped, caught surprised by the appearance of their prince, or what seemed to be their prince. Anduin ignored them and their cries, mustering up the energy within to call to the light again. Raising his arms up, he channeled light into another dome. Another barrier of light formed around the walls, just in time to stop a group of demons from just walking it. 

The shining light encased Sentinel Hill, protecting all of her homeless, her soldiers, her farmers. Many looked in awe, Anduin gasping as he felt weakened, his knee causing him to limp again. He tried his best to book it to the tower, where the commander worked. Inside, he found a meeting of the higher ranked men, struggling to decide what to do. Anduin ignored most of them, running right up to the head commander. 

“P-Prince Wrynn?!”

Anduin grabbed the man’s arm. 

“You won’t stand a chance!” He yelled. “Have your mages teleport as many back to Stormwind as possible! Start with the locals!”

“B-but-”

“The shield I just raised will only last for so long!” Anduin barked, glaring daggers into the man’s eyes. “Tell my father that now is the time to pay his debts!!”

-...-

Manasaber stepped back from her work. 

“There! It’s complete!”

Varian watched, unsure, as the mage redrew the rune in front of his throne. Valeera Sanguinar watched as well, standing to the side of the throne. Wrathion, however, seemed impatient. He’d returned from somewhere, calling for Left and Right to fetch Manasaber and meet him at the keep, requesting her to redraw the rune. Wrathion did not talk much about his plan, but Varian could begin to put together the pieces. 

“You want me to…”

“Step on it.” Wrathion nodded. “Do you really wish to leave this untested? What if Onyxia did the same to you?”

Varian frowned, unsure. He didn’t think he’d gone through the same treatment Onyxia put his son through, at least he hoped so. In his head, he’d thought that everything Onyxia did to him - split him apart, brain wash him - seemed like the equivalent. But Wrathion acted strange, like he knew things he wasn’t going to spill, and that put Varian on edge. He’d demand the whelp to spill it, but he knew Wrathion, and he knew the whelp was stubborn. He wasn’t going to be straight with him until he felt like it. 

Varian thought back to watching his son stand upon the rune, and seeing his son cry out in pain before he vanished in a poof of magic. Part of him felt worry. But, if Onyxia had done the same to him, he wanted to know. 

“Alright…”

Varian calmed himself, looking away from the mage and the dragon, focusing on the rune before him. He stepped down to walk onto the patterns, bracing himself for something. For a feeling, for pain, for a complete transformation. 

They waited, Wrathion remembering the spell taking time before activation. He felt his heart beat quickly, anticipating something happening before him. 

The first second went by. 

And then the next. 

And as time ticked by, nothing happened. 

The longer time went, the more disappointment Wrathion felt. Varian and Manasaber turned to look at him, expecting him to say something, to react. 

Wrathion frowned, looking confused and slightly angry. He was so sure of what he saw back at Blackrock. The dragons, the scars, the name! It all seemed too obvious!! No one else had those scars!! Wrathion couldn’t think of anyone with a name so similar to Logosh. 

“Nothing happened.” Varian said, still standing on the rune. On one hand, he was glad, but on the other, he wasn’t sure he would hear what Wrathion had thought would happen now that it was proven false. 

Wrathion, in his desperation, came up with another idea. The name was specific, wasn’t it? For a reason! Maybe…

“King Wrynn, do you think we could spli-”

“KING WRYNN!”

Wrathion was interrupted by the desperate cries of a man, follow by a few concerned keep guards. Varian turned his attention to the man, holding his head and shoulders higher, stepping over the rune to meet the spooked man. 

“What is it?”

The man, gasping for breath, shook in terror. All turned to his attention, his emotiosn taking over the room. 

“IT’S THE LEGION, MY LORD!” The man cried out. “THEY’RE ATTACKING WESTFALL!” 

The room changed, and what felt like a looming threat now took center stage. 

“Wha-what could they want with Westfall?” Manasaber frowned. 

“A close foothold to Stormwind.” Valeera frowned. “If we lose Westfall, we lose Stormwind.”

“The-the Prince! He was there!” The man continued. “He’s stalled them but he demands your aid!”

“Anduin.” Varian frowned, shaking away the thoughts of his son facing off the Legion without aid away. He turned to Valeera. “Find Jaina and portal to Sentinel Hill immediately. Find my son!”

“Right away!” 

As Valeera spirited away, Varian addressed Manasaber. 

“Prepare to portal an army, get as much help from the Mage tower as possible.”

Manasaber nodded and left quickly. 

Varian met Wrathion’s gaze, however did not order the dragon to do anything. He didn’t need to, Wrathion was already contacting his own Blacktalon network. The dragon nodded, and Varian grabbed hold of his sword, preparing to send his armies to Westfall.

-...-

The Defias were strong in their dedication to Westfall, and it seemed that the Legion underestimated that. That said, Vanessa Vancleef was growing tired, and the demons were surrounding the town and on an endless supply from the ships above. 

“PUSH FORWARDS!” Vancleef yelled, trying to help her party.

That said, as she ran her knives into the neck of a felguard, a large crack echoed across the land. Vanessa looked back towards Moonbrook, watching as a large crack formed in the light barrier, caused by the use of demon bats. The bats swarmed the shield, bypassing the army below to weaken it’s protection. 

A cry echoed through the air in reply, and she watched as the onyxian whelpling returned, casting breaths of fire at the bats, burning them away. Anduin cleared the bats, despite more on their way, and headed Vancleef’s way. 

“Finally!” Vancleef yelled at him, turned away from the battlefield. 

The whelp cried out, harsher this time, and swooped down, landing upon Vancleef’s shoulders hard, nearly toppling over. A large burst of light shot out of the whelp’s mouth, Vancleef turning to see the light burning away at a doomguard, just in position to wipe her off the face of the earth. The doomguard disappeared in ashes, Anduin flying off of Vancleef to take human form again. 

“Watch out!” Anduin yelled back to her. 

Vancleef could hardly breath, realizing she was losing her edge, and had the prince not returned in time, she’d be dead right now. She turned towards the demons, continuing to face them, Anduin pulling off healing spells on her Defias, then joining the fight alongside her. The two worked almost back-to-back, Anduin smiting demons with the light, Vancleef dodging their weapons and magic to snuff them out. 

They were both growing tired, Anduin’s limited movement showing as they were forced closer and closer to the town. He was slow, his knee threatening to buckle at any second, and Vancleef tried her best to clear the path for him, protecting him like some sort of horrific escort mission. Anduin threw out smites, growing low on mana, then watched as Vancleef was countered, thrown to the ground with such force she bounced. Anduin collapsed onto his knees, calling for the light to heal her, needing her to get back up and quickly. 

A deep echoing laugh filled the air, the two humans looking before them to see a demon form before them. The demon was tall, large, and grinned at them. 

“You inferior beings surprise me.” 

The demon appeared to be a commander, much bigger and stronger than the rest. His armor glowed with sick green fel crystals, his wings spread out large enough to block out the sky’s light, his walk made the ground shake.

Despite his tone, he looked angry. He glared at the powerful priest of light, he growled at the sights of the light shields. He was angry that the locals, though few, were able to put up a fight. His eyes looked back down to Anduin, sending shivers down the human’s spine. 

“The Burning Legion knows all, sees all.” He said, stepping forward. Anduin attempted to summon a shield around them, but he was out of mana. Instead, he helped Vancleef up.

“We knew how easy Westfall would be to claim. How weak your land is, how little protected it was.” He laughed. “A ground so close to the Alliance headquarters. Such an easy victory. You’re people will fall soon. You cannot stop us with your light, nor your knives.”

Vancleef tried to help Anduin limp, but they were not going to outrun him and both of them knew it. Vancleef faced her fear, jumping forward to protect Anduin from the commander’s attack. 

“Crawl!” Vancleef yelled, the barrier still up, however weak. 

Anduin watched Vancleef attempt to harm the commander, however it was easy to tell she stood no chance. He had to do something, not willing to let her die, and unwilling to attempt the unlikely escape. 

Anduin transformed into a whelp, flying off the ground towards the commander, distracting him from Vancleef’s knives. The whelp cast balls of light and fire, burning the demon’s skin, yet not doing much damage beyond that. 

The commander enjoyed their attempt, but knew too that they were nothing. He looked over, into the distance, to see Sentinel Hill filling with Stormwind soldiers, preparing for a proper push back. Not far, he saw a mage portal appear, two beings running out, towards him. 

“Enough.” The commander growled, knocking Vancleef away, falling hard against the ground, knocking the wind from her. 

Without time to react, Anduin was grabbed, the commander wrapping his fingers around the whelp in a tight lock, nearly breaking the whelp’s wings. Anduin cried out, scratching at the hand, trying to burn him, but with each attempt the demon squeezed him, causing him to lose his breath. In his weakness, he could no longer fight and transformed back into human form. He tried, but all he could muster was a weak smite, one that hardly even appeared in gold sparkle. 

“ANDUIN!!!”

Anduin could hardly see through the tears in his eyes, the pain far too much for him to handle. He tried, looking down to see familiar figures running towards him. As they cried out his name again, he realized that it was Jaina and Valeera. 

Anduin realized that they saw him, his ability to remember what was going on around him disappearing. In that moment, he felt happy, smiling at his aunt and sister as they approached. A heavy feeling in his heart vanishes, but even then he couldn’t remember why. 

Jaina prepared to fire arcane bolts, the commander’s laughter filling the air. 

“I have my prize.” 

The commander began to disappear in a beam of green light, along with the prince, the arcane missiles missing their target. 

“NO!” 

As Jaina and Valeera reached where they stood, all they could find was a knocked out Vanessa Vancleef laying only feet away. 

-...-

By the time Varian appeared, Sentinel Hill had protected itself with Stormwind’s forces, and was properly evacuated. The king aided in fighting off the last of the demons spread around Westfall, but what was reported as three ships in the sky was only one when he arrived. 

Varian watched as the light shields flickered out, thinking back to his son, and how he’d not been able to save him in time. While he was glad for what Anduin managed to pull off, he couldn’t help but wish Anduin had returned home, or stayed in Sentinel Hill. The King, done surveying the damage done to Westfall, walked into the main tower on Sentinel Hill. 

Inside, walking back and forth in a pace, Jaina Proudmoore struggled to deal with what she saw. 

“I could’ve saved him, I should have been faster, I was right there. He saw me.” She looked up to Varian, reaching for his shoulders. “He smiled to me!”

Varian was having his own panic attack mentally, trying to be strong for his friend, but it was hard. She stared at him with tears in her eyes, and he tried to come up with something to say. 

He couldn’t, not a single word working it’s way up his dry throat. 

“My King.”

The two turned to see Valeera walk in, alongside her was Vanessa Vancleef in cuffs. The two walked up, Valeera making Vancleef kneel before the king. There wasn’t much defiance from the Defias leader, injuries all over her body, her body still shook from hitting the ground too hard. 

Valeera pulled a letter out, handing it to Varian. 

Varian paused, Valeera motioning for him to read it. He unfolded the paper and began to scan through the words, eyes widening at it’s contents. 

It was a letter Anduin had written, addressed to Vancleef, about how he promised to help Westfall and it’s people. It was short, vague, but Anduin’s promises never needed to hold detail. The kid took his own words seriously, and could only hope others did too. 

Varian held onto the letter, looking down at Vancleef. 

“What do we do with her?” Valeera asked, ready to do anything her friend commander her to.

Varian paused, Vancleef looking up to him, giving him a glare. 

“What were you doing with my son?” Varian asked, seeking to know why he was even here in the first place. 

Vancleef narrowed her eyes. 

“I say this, Wrynn, holding back my spit.” She replied. “Your son has saved my life, as well as my town and my people. He has shown good intention to people you abandoned.”

While Valeera tightened her grip on the Defias leader, Varian did not react. 

“As a Vancleef, I will never forget that.” 

Varian did not say anything, her words taking a moment to process. 

“My King?” Valeera asked. 

Varian sighed, loosening his stance, glancing at the letter in his hands again. 

“Set her free.” He said. As Valeera uncuffed Vancleef and helped her stand, Varian continued. 

“If the Burning Legion is here then we must throw away our grievances. Azeroth needs us to work together.” 

He gave a sigh, one that almost looked defeated.

“If my son can be saved, I will need all the help I can get.” 

-...-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You ever start planning a sequel to a story you haven't even updated in two months? Rip.  
> Anyway, I hope this was worth the wait. I'vm excited in the direction we're heading in, I've got a lot planned. :3  
> Your comments fuel me and I can't thank you all enough for your support! Let me know your thoughts, what you hope for, etc!! Thank you all! :D <3


	11. Before the Broken Shores

-...-

Uncomfortable. 

His first thought was that he was really uncomfortable. 

His shoulder was shoved up against metal, his knee was incredibly sore, his mana drained (odd?), and whatever he was in, it wasn’t big enough for him to be laying down in it properly. 

Anduin slowly came to to find himself within a cage, the first thing he noticed being the cold metal jagged green “bars” and flooring, with wide spaces between the bars, but something of a faint green field holding him in. Sitting up, not standing (his knee hurt too much for that), he rubbed his head to feel something of a headache, and it would likely grow in pain for many reasons. Sleeping on metal wasn’t nice, nor was being purposely drained of mana for so long, and being captured by the Burning Legion wasn’t fun. 

Looking around, Anduin found a number of imps surrounding his cage. What surprised him was how big the imps were, not as small as the imps he’d seen from the warlock champion before. They stood at least half his height, when the ones the warlock used were maybe up to knee level at most. Beyond them, a large space-ship looking room, with a larger demon standing taller then the rest. 

Anduin realized he recognized the commander, and remembered slowly how he got here. 

He was in Moonbrook, and they were attacked, and he tried to save them, but their commander appeared, and then…

It was all vague events, but after that he woke up here. He groaned in pain, gaining the attention of the commander. 

“It’s awake, It’s awake!” One of the imps yelled as the commander approached. 

“I see.” He replied, pushing the imps aside. He looked down at the prince, who watched intently, his heart rate increasing. 

Then he laughed. 

“Such a weak, tiny mortal. And yet, some sort of trophy to your people.” 

Anduin gulped. Trophy? He didn’t really like the sound of that, but...that would keep him alive, right? 

The commander sighed and stood straight, walking a few feet away. 

“Azeroth is protected by many armies, yet the two most powerful are constantly at odds.” The commander spoke. “The Horde and the Alliance. And you are important to the future of both.”

Anduin didn’t like where this was going. 

“The Burning Legion knows everything about you and your pitiful planet.” The commander continued. “And if anything were to happen to you, the Alliance King would have nothing to lose and woul-”

Anduin felt a sudden surge in confidence, grabbing onto the bars of the cage. “If you hurt me my father will singlehandedly tear apart your entire empire!” 

The commander laughed again, then continued as if the child hadn’t interrupted. “-and, would work himself to death. His anger will only get him so far. About six feet, should I be up to date on your burial costumes. The Alliance will crumble, and without her sister faction, the Horde will die out as well.” 

The commander glanced at the prince, disappointed to receive nothing but a glare. 

“Unfortunately for me, I personally do not get to decide your fate.” 

Anduin watched as the commander’s attention was taken by a beeping noise, and he walked into the center of the room to stand before a swirl of green magic. Waving his hand, the swirl took form. Small holograms appeared, three figures standing before the commander. Two were demons, much like himself, and the third was….an orc? 

Squinting his eyes, he made out what appeared to be a warlock, hunched over leaning heavily upon a...very intimidating cane? Staff? Both. Anduin was not close enough to get much more than that. Instead of trying to identify the orc, he turned his attention to listening in on their conversation. One they didn’t really try to hide from him. 

“Our attack was defended against heavily.” The commander reported to the holograms. “It seems the human kingdom cares more for their desolate territory then they like to act.”

“You’re still here.” One of the two demons grumbled, his voice deeper then the commander’s. “You’ve retreated?”

“I hope not.” The other demon hologram muttered, the Orc remaining silent. 

“We retreat for now, not because they were too much for our forces, but because I found something you,” He directly motions towards the orc, “may be interested in.” 

“Oh?” The orc grumbled. 

Anduin felt his heart jump when the cage he sat in started to move. The Imps surrounding him had picked up the cage, and brought him closer to the commander, as he motioned them to do. They placed him down beside the commander, as it appeared that suddenly he was in view of the holograms. 

The commander did not say anything, and the two other demons seemed initially unimpressed - this obviously wasn’t any powerful warrior - but the Orc said nothing. He seemed to watch Anduin, and Anduin stared back, feeling afraid. Afraid of what he didn’t know. 

Why? What made HIM interesting to this orc? What made HIM someone worth retreating for? 

Anduin did not like this interest in him that the Burning Legion was showing. As far as his history was concerned, that never ended well for anyone. 

“Ahh…” The Orc grinned, seemingly pleased with the human child shown. “The Wrynn grandson.”

W...Wrynn grandson?? Anduin wasn’t sure why he was referred to by grandson, he maybe would understand Wrynn son, but...

The Orc looked to the commander. “Transfer him to my ship as soon as we come into range. Then return to conquering Azeroth.”

The commander did some sort of salute, one Anduin didn’t recognize. 

The two other demons looked confused, but did not dare question the warlock. It seemed this warlock was their higher up. And he wanted Anduin on his ship. Chills ran down Anduin’s spin as he tried to think up reasons why.

Did he want to kill him? But if the Burning Legion wanted him dead, they could just...do it, couldn’t they? If they had the power to destroy entire worlds what possibility did Anduin have in fighting back should they try? Anduin wanted to be hopeful, but the last week or so made it so difficult, and all of his teachings about the Burning Legion were that it was a power ruthless and unrelenting. It was a force Anduin never really believed he would have to face himself, humans never lived long and the Burning Legion seemed something of history. 

Though, to believe history as something that never repeated was dangerous, and Anduin knew this. 

Whatever was said, Anduin returned from his thoughts to miss part of the conversation.

“Good, good.” The orc was nodding in agreement to something he’d missed. 

“We will speak again with your arrival to Azeroth.”

With that, and no real spoken sign off, the holograms disappeared, and Anduin was left beside the commander with no other eyes upon him. 

“I’m glad the orc thinks you’re worth the retreat.” The commander smirked down at the human. “I did not do that with ease.”

Anduin continued to ask himself why, but remained silent. 

The commander again disliked getting no response. He turned his attention to the nearby imps and instructed them in demonic, using words he did not understand. He could guess, through context clues, what was said. The imps immediately picked up his cage, taking him out of the room and farther inside the ship, down hallways and doorways until they reached what Anduin assumed to be some sort of jail. 

Anduin was booted from the cage he’d woken up from, locked within another cell, chained loosely to it’s walls. This one was a bit bigger, with a cold metal wall behind it, and a frozen metal floor below. The bars were dark, close together. In the corner of the cell was a puddle of liquid, with a neon green glow. It had a smell, once Anduin couldn’t describe. He sat against the wall in the opposite corner, careful not to touch anything that looked like it would harm him.

The imps left, and soon the only noise that Anduin could hear was the slight humming of the ship. The cold temperature of the room, and everything within it, slowly enveloped the small human as well, and he attempted to make the most out of his own body heat, curling around himself. 

He shook, despite his attempts, and though he felt numbness he felt a tear or two fall from his face. 

He stared out into the room, his mind somewhere else entirely, as he thought about everything that had happened to him. With each day he’d encountered horrible luck, and he could only fear what would happen next. He felt a panic attack on the rise, his shaking growing, his tears flooding, and his mind nothing but a mess. 

He sat there, consumed, until he cried himself to sleep.

-...-

Moonbrook was lively, more so than it has ever been. At least, as far as Wrathion was aware. Looking around, Citizens of Moonbrook, members of the Defias, and soldiers of Stormwind worked together to rebuild and prepare for the Burning Legion’s arrival. Or, their next attack. If the Legion had an interest in Westfall, they weren’t going to give up so easily.

Not far away, Vanessa Vancleef was directing her Defias men, and it seemed a few Stormwind soldiers were even listening to her. 

How odd, Wrathion thought, yet somewhat motivating. This was just the beginning of the effects of someone as kindhearted as Anduin Wrynn living within this world. If King Varian could work together with Vancleef, and trust another Prestor in his keep, then maybe worldwide peace was a possibility after all. 

That said, Anduin would need to live to continue making change to Azeroth. 

Wrathion couldn’t help but think back to the cultists, his worry for Anduin higher then it normally is, however they provided little help and their words were more confusing them anything else. 

He wondered how Anduin even got the name Alnyxia. Did it mean anything? It didn’t ring a bell to Wrathion, there were no obvious connections to any word in draconic that he knew of. Was there a common word he wasn’t considering? Anduin knew many languages, it could have a connection to orcish. Did he come up with it on his own? Or did the cultists have something to do with it?

He wondered, too, about Logothian. While Alnyxia seemed to come from thin air, Logothian was much easier to decipher. At least, Wrathion thought it was. Varian didn’t turn into a dragon (or would he be a whelpling too? Would his age be converted to dragon years?) and while Wrathion wasn’t sure he was done with this theory, it did no harm to attempt to find other people who fit the name. 

But, he had a much bigger issue at hand, and that was the Burning Legion.

The Burning Legion had Anduin. 

He’d heard from Valeera most of what happened, sent by Varian to fill him in on the events taking place in Westfall, and what Vancleef confessed to about Anduin’s stay in Moonbrook. There wasn’t much there, only that “he’s shown kindness no other Wrynn had” which he imagined was said with a glare towards the king. 

He could sense clues within Moonbrook, as objects with a deep connection to dragon magic stand out against the rest. He could only sense them when nearby, and they didn’t look any different, so finding them without looking suspicious to the citizens would take consideration. 

He knew, standing beside Moonbrook’s dirty, broken fountain that the enchanted metal collar, the one that took Anduin’s ability to use the light and to speak common, was somewhere underground, possibly in the Defias built mining tunnels below the town. It was what he originally came for, yet walking down the streets, he felt something else. Something not as powerful, yet….concerning. 

A little girl, with curly hair, stood a few feet away, quietly watching all of the stormwind soldiers walk around the streets while holding something in her hands. She touched it between her palms as if it were some sort of fidget toy, held it with a determination not to lose it, yet she was careful, almost afraid to break it. 

On closer inspection, it was a scale. A dragon scale, shining with the colors of an Onyxian whelpling. 

He hurried over to her, catching her attention in a way he hadn’t intended to. She looked frightened, with his glowing red eyes, and stepped back a second. 

“Where did-” He stopped, realizing how he’d frightened the girl, and restarted. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but notice that scale you ha-”

“No!” The girl shook her head. “It’s mine! You can’t have it.”

Wrathion felt a series of emotions, from feeling upset that she even had a scale, and that it clearly wasn’t hers, she wasn’t a dragon, it belonged to someone else, someone obviously Anduin. But, he knew too that it’s not likely that she stole it. 

“I was just wondering where you got it?” He asked, stepping back to not seem so invasive. 

The girl hesitated, working out the pros and cons of talking about the object she had. Whatever cons she came up with, they were not enough to outweigh her desire to show and tell. 

“I met a dragon! He’s around here somewhere!” She looked down at her scale and then back up to Wrathion. “He gave me two scales! But Vanessa took the first one, so he gave me another.”

She continued, holding the scale very protectively. “He said I can’t lose this one! I promised not to lose it!” 

“Did he?” He replied. “It looks beautiful.”

As she excitedly nodded her head, Wrathion couldn't help but worry more so for Anduin and what this meant. 

Dragons don’t give away their scales, don’t even shed them easily. Scales are precious, both in value, rarity, and in looks. They provide aid in spellcasting, both of the dragon they belong to and to any spellcaster who gets their hands on one. To a dragon, they are like a second skin, and are a vital part of defense. A single scale lost is not much to worry, but multiple is concerning, for they are not easily replaceable. It would take a dragon hundreds, if not thousands, of years to replace any lost scale. 

Anduin most likely wasn't going to get those scales back anytime soon. 

It was important to note too that dragons don’t enjoy being descaled. It hurts, incredibly so, and Wrathion flinched at the thought of the one time it had happened to him. He bled for days, and is very protective of that patch of skin. It is still much more sensitive than any other part of him, and not in a good way. 

Was Anduin shedding them? He’d given up at least two to the girl, but if he was willing to do that, had he lost more? And why be so willing? Wrathion tried to imagine the onyxian whelpling bleeding as much, if not more, then he had. The pain. 

The scale the girl held seemed clean, there being no sign of any blood. 

Was it easily for Anduin, being part human? Maybe he could descale without the same amount of pain. But then would growing them back come easier or harder? Could he do that? Or would he be stuck with patches of skin for the rest of his life?

Anduin needed to be more careful with his scales considering the new ground that was a human and dragon child, one NOT born from human and dragon parents. There was so much unknown and Anduin knew little of being a dragon, no matter what Alexstrasza had said to him. 

All of this made Wrathion feel much more on edge about finding Anduin, and as quick as possible. 

“Hey!” The girl spoke up. “Are you a dragon too??”

Wrathion froze, glancing around to make sure she hadn’t grabbed anyone else’s attention for asking such a question so loud. Luckily, no one seemed to mind, and he was sure that Vancleef already knew of him, at least that he existed. 

“I am.” He answered.

“Do you know the other dragon??” She asked.

Wrathion wanted to comment that not all dragons knew each other, but yes, he did know the dragon she had met. 

“Yes, he’s my friend.” Wrathion nodded. “Have you see him?”

She nodded, thought for a moment, then shook her head. “Not recently.”

“Will you keep an eye out for him?” Wrathion asked. “Tell him I’m looking for him.”

“Okay! What’s your name!?” She asked. “So i can tell him.”

Wrathion smiled. “Just tell him another dragon is looking for him. That he misses his friend.”

The girl nodded.

Wrathion considered that Anduin probably wouldn’t enjoy the idea that the other dragon was looking for him, Anduin still didn’t know of Onyxia’s torment and didn’t know that he, as well as his father and aunt, knew the truth now. He’d probably think the girl was part of a trap. But, Wrathion did not believe the girl to be able to find Anduin at all. 

He wasn’t here, she wouldn’t find him. 

He said goodbye to the girl and continued his investigation, poking around the entrance to the cave system. He gained some odd looks, but no one said anything initially. However, it seemed someone thought he was suspicious, and an older woman stopped him. 

“You don’t look like one of the king’s soldiers...or champions.” 

Wrathion turned to face her, a bit taken back by the smirk on her face. 

“You seem to be looking for something, young dragon.”

There was nothing...overly important looking about her, she seemed to live here in Moonbrook. Yet, it felt like she could read him like a book, and he didn’t like that. 

“Do I know you?” He asked. 

“You can call me Mortor.” She said. “I think I can help you with your search.”

Wrathion hesitated, staring at her as she did so back. He was confused, until it clicked that she likely was referring to Anduin. 

“You know where he is?” Wrathion asked, his voice lowering. 

“I have information for trade.” Mortar replied. 

Wrathion huffed, disappointed by her reply. But, he nodded, and the woman lead him to a room not so crowded by people entering and leaving the cave system. 

“What do you want?” Wrathion asked immediately. 

“I don’t know where your friend is, but I can help you track him. Besides, I have something that already belongs to you.” Mortor said. “All that I ask, as a simple mage trying to help her city, is that you trade me one of your scales.”

“A Scale??”

Mortor probably knew about the scales Anduin gave to the girl, and now Wrathion couldn’t help but wonder what kind of misinformation about dragons that alone was spreading. Sure, maybe Anduin could do this, but Wrathion-

But if it lead to finding Anduin….

“Tell me more about what you have.” Wrathion’s voice edged on a growl. 

“I have that metal collar covered in your kind’s magic. I also have this.” 

From her pocket, the woman pulled out a blue crystal tied to a necklace. It glowed dimly, yet Wrathion knew that it looked near identical to the crystal that Anduin had around his neck. 

“Explain.”

“This is the sister crystal to the one I gave your friend. They are bound to each other and can be used to track the other down. As long as he holds onto his necklace, and as long as you hold onto this one, you will be able to find his exact location.”

The answer was easy. 

He didn’t care at all about the metal collar, but the blue crystal giving him the exact location of Prince Anduin was worth more than any one scale. In fact, he hated to think, Mortor could probably have asked for more than just one scale and still gotten a deal. 

“Deal.” He said without further discussion. “I want the crystal. You can have the scale.”

The woman nodded, and turned as if she were going to go into the cave system. 

“Alright, give me a moment to find the collar-”

“No.” Wrathion stopped her. “I don’t need that. I need the crystal.”

Mortor paused, then shrugged, and showed him the crystal again. 

“The scale, please.” She said as she held out another hand. 

Wrathion paused, and Mortor noticed the hesitation that came over the very impatient dragon. Wrathion slowly reached up his sleeve, allowing his human appearance to stumble, scales appearing. He touched them, hoping to find one that may be looser then the rest, but they were all just as dense and hard as the last. Removing a scale was going to be...awful. 

He picked one randomly and worked it loose, feeling it pull at his skin, feeling it slowly begin to tare and break open his skin. As it was separated from the skin beneath, blood dripped from his wound, and down his arm, where the woman could see it. 

He was holding back any complaints he had, a small hiss escaping as he finally got the scale free, and a rather angry look stuck on his face. His pointed fangs showed, and he quickly shoved the scale to the mage, demanding the crystal with his other, unbloodied, hand. 

She gave him the crystal, taking the scale cautiously. 

“Do you need aid for that?” She asked. 

Holding onto his bleeding arm tightly, he turned to leave.

“No, I am fine.” He then added quickly. “Keep hold of that well, or you may hear from me again.”

Mortor nodded. “It is safe with me.”

Wrathion said nothing more, turning to leave Moonbrook’s crowded streets and buildings. 

-...-

When Anduin awoke, it was to the sound of imps laughing and mocking him, throwing rocks at the cell bars, causing them to ring loudly. 

Almost on instinct, he curled into a smaller form, changing into a whelpling, hissing at the sound of the bars. The hissing only made the imps want to challenge him more, and he regretted it almost instantly. 

As he pushed himself into the corner as much as possible, letting his wings hide him and his tale wrap around him, he felt something wet fall onto his head and burn slightly. He glanced up to see liquid fel seeping through the cracks from above. It forced him from his spot in the corner, slowly, and hesitantly moving just out of range from the cracks. 

He turned his attention away from the loud imps for only a moment, but it was brought back by loud barking, a demonic barking, and like a frightened cat, Anduin turned to see fel hounds sticking their heads through the cell bars. 

They were much bigger than him, and their creepy heads pointed at him as though he were prey. 

They continued to taunt him with noises, the imps starting to attempt to push the fel hounds into the cage. They weren’t going to get the hounds in, the hounds were far too big, but they seemed to enjoy watching the whelp attempt to hide. 

Soon, the imps grew tired of it, and the fel hounds snapped at them after they pushed too far. Some of the imps ran away from the hounds, but a few stayed, going back to throwing broken parts of the ship at the cage. Or, not at the cage this time, at Anduin himself. 

The whelp took a more defensive stance, hissing at them as they managed to hit him at least once. It made the imps excited, and they continued their torture with increasingly loud noises and far more accurate throws. 

His headache grew too much, and remembering how the fel hounds had scared them off, Anduin figured he’d at least give that a try. Imps were small and weak and fearful, no matter how annoying. Of all demons to be messing with him they probably would be best to deal with. 

Anduin raised his wings wide, as if giving warning, but the imps again only took joy from it. He jumped towards the bars of the cage, letting a ball of flame and light escape his mouth, shooting out at the imps. 

The imps screeched, backing off.

One, however, seemed immediately angry, and reached out to attack back, catching the pink crystal necklace Anduin had around his neck and snatching it, pulling it back. 

The imp attempted to break the necklace off of him, yet was only pulling the whelp against the bars, hurting his neck. Anduin felt panicked, breathing growing harder to do, and he scrambled to get the imp off. To get the necklace off. 

The imp’s hand glowed green, casting some sort of fel based spell, and the rope necklace broke.

Anduin fell back, gasping for breath before realizing he did not have the necklace anymore. He jumped up, watching as the imp who broke it ran off with it and the other imps, out of the room. Their laughter disappeared into the distance, the crystal gone with them. 

Anduin felt a number of thoughts race through his head, and his panic attack increased in momentum. He’d been unable to part with the crystal before! What spell had the imp used to unbind it?!

That crystal was a tracker.

Vancleef needed him to keep it if she were to find him at all. 

The whelp began to shake, backing himself up against the back wall again, terrified of the thought that he’d lost the only thing that gave him a chance to escape. 

How would they find him now?

He could hear the distant laughter of imps return, which now only filled him with dread. 

-...-

Varian stood at his side of the meeting table, holding up appearances well for someone who was quite a wreck inside. Not that appearances mattered in this perspective, everyone here knew about Anduin’s disappearance, or more so, his kidnapping. He, the Alliance leadership, and the Horde leadership gathered to meet over the invasion of the Legion with Archmage Khadgar. 

“...that is why I am certain this will be the best time and place to attack them.” 

Mathias Shaw, who went on an undercover mission and returned with insight, suggested to the leaders what their plan of action should be. He seemed much more assertive, sure of his own plan, and while Varian knew the man to take pride in what he knew, and his abilities to gather information, Shaw still seemed much more open than before. But, the king hardly noticed, still kept to his thoughts about his son. 

“The Broken Isles appears to be where they are hoping to set station, and if we can stop them before they place defenses, then we may gain an upper hand.” Shaw spoke. “The southernmost island will be the best place to make land.”

“And will da Kirin Tor be sending aid, Archmage?” Warchief Vol’jin asked. 

“Dalaran is still in need of time to prepare, so I do not believe our mages can help with specific attack.” Khadgar frowned. “That said, I am also seeking aid from other neutral factions, as well as resources both factions may make use of. I’ve contacted your champions, for they seemed better geared for certain missions.”

Vol’jin glanced over to King Varian, however seemed disappointed that his attention was distant. 

“King Wrynn.” Vol’jin spoke, with no intention to call the man out, no matter how it looked. “We undastand ya worry, but we must know you will be prepared for battle along side da Horde.”

“We won’t tolerate the Alliance falling behind.” Sylvanas spoke up as well, gaining a glare from the warchief that she ignored. 

“Forgive me for being a worried father, Warchief” Varian shook his head. “No demon will be able to match my army’s force. We are prepared for war, we only wait on you.”

Varian found it more difficult to cope each time his son went missing, and it really didn’t help to remember his childhood, and his kingdom’s past brushing with the legion. He used to be able to focus on war to ignore his worries, but this wasn’t working this time. And he wasn’t going to go so low as to drink during a war meeting, despite how much he’d love to do that. If only appearances weren’t as important as they were…

Paying his full attention now, the meeting continued as both sides set in stone the details of their first attack on the Burning Legion. The small isle below the Broken Isle gave them plenty of areas to ambush, as well as set up base, so if they were quick enough, they might be able to stand against the demons. Of course, this was all based on information Mathias Shaw provided, and the Horde seemed a little hesitant at times, but Mathias had never wronged his own king before. That, and the two factions knew how valuable a treaty was at a time like this. 

It took hours upon hours to come to a unanimous agreement on plans, but a plan was reached, and the meeting disbanded for the leaders to prepare both their own factions and their own people. 

As Varian stood up to leave, he was approached by Vol’jin. The Darkspear troll was always someone Varian respected, and his actions against Garrosh not long ago cemented those perceptions. The troll had gone through a lot, much like Anduin had. A murder attempt, a period of recovery. Varian thought this warchief much easier to work with, and it’d so far lead to peace. 

Should nothing bad happen to them, and this war won, peace was a reasonable future. 

“I know ya son be botherin’ ya.” Vol’jin spoke, his voice lowered as to not make their conversation too public. 

“I figured that was always a given.” Varian replied. He really didn’t want to talk about this, but the warchief wasn’t someone he could just turn away from. Well, not someone he wanted to do that to at the moment. 

“I just be wantin’ to let you know da Horde will keep watch for ‘im. My champions know.”

It was the least the Horde could do, but it was also something Varian appreciated. The Horde was obligated to do nothing, but that was pretending the Horde had no reason to hope for the safety of Anduin Wrynn. Anduin Wrynn once nearly died facing the Horde’s tyrannical leader, preached for the Horde’s honor, and pushed for peace more so than any other leader. He was important to both their futures. 

At the same time, Vol’jin understood that Varian suffered much from being a widowed father with a single child, who was no stranger to danger and death. Vol’jin knew that Anduin’s kidnapping would in some way affect Varian’s performance in the war, and his decisions following their attack. 

They spoke briefly on other matters, but quickly parted. Varian left the room to seek out Prophet Velen, hoping that the other leader was still around. After a few minutes of searching he’d found Velen outside the Dalaran building. 

“Prophet!”

Velen stopped and turned to see the human king approach. He smiled in greeting as Varian caught up with him. 

“King Wrynn.” 

“I wanted to ask you something, before you left.” Varian said. “I wanted to know if you’ve been able to feel anything through the light.”

Velen did not answer quickly. Varian knew little on how the light worked, but knew that priests could feel connections to each other, and that Anduin spoke about having a connection with Velen at least a few times. 

Velen remembered the eeire feeling he had, watching Anduin leave to Northrend, and how the Light provided little explanation. 

“I feel no interference.” 

It was the only answer he could give the father. He could not judge if Anduin was well, only that his connection to the light still existed and that Anduin wasn’t dying. More then that wasn’t something he could be truthful about. 

“I suppose that’s good.” Varian frowned. “Thank you.”

“You will be the first to know should anything change, my king.”

Varian wasn’t going to relay on that, seeing that the Light refrained from giving much information even now. 

All he could do now is prepare for the attack on the broken shores, and hope. 

Anduin was always better at hoping, wasn’t he?

-...-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tbh this chapter was a pain to write, writers block sucks. I shortened it to get through it. I'm really looking forward to next chapter, so that should be out quicker. 
> 
> As always, I thank you all for your feedback and comments! If you're interested in maybe seeing art or updates on this story, I have a twitter now! I also just post a l o t of Anduin art so, yea. It's druidonity on both twitter and tumblr. 
> 
> Also, I have art for this fic and you can add art to stories on here apparently. Do you think it'd be cool to see art added to past chapters? If so, at the end of the chapters or where each takes place? Maybe an art only chapter? Please let me know your thoughts! <3
> 
> Also, may want to read-up on the rogue legion class hall quest line if you haven't already... :)


	12. The Essence of Anduin Wrynn

-...-

Anduin looked up in shock at his father.

“This….you’re giving this to- to me?”

Varian only nodded, his son stared wide-eyed down at the silver key in his hands. The key that Archbishop Benedictus had only just given to them moments ago before leaving them in peace, standing before Tiffin’s grave. It was the key to the late Queen Tiffin’s locket, which has been kept locked for as long as she’s been lost. 

Anduin stood, 14 years of age, hair ruffled and eyes glossy, with a bow and set of arrows hanging from his back. Benedictus pulled him from practice to show him something, and then left him with his father standing before his mother’s grave, with a gift. 

The father and son had grown distant, and it seemed the man was hoping to bring them back together. It was something both of them needed dearly. 

Anduin held onto the key tightly, a newfound fear of losing it. He had little left of his mother. Each new thing he was given, he cherished. 

“Tiffin had that locket with her no matter where she went. I kept it with me no matter where I went after she died.” Varian spoke up. “Only...I eventually grew afraid of losing it, with our world plunged into war constantly. Remind me to give you the locket when we go back to the keep.”

Anduin looked up to his father, seeing the smile on his face. 

“Thank you, father.”

Varian placed his hand on his son’s shoulder. 

“I realize that I’ve been blind to the man you are becoming. My fears were based in paranoia and they only hurt you.” He confessed. “I believed that there would only be one path for us, for you, as I believed for myself, and seeing you stray from that path only made me worry that I had failed in raising you.”

Anduin felt tears in his eyes and his heart grow heavy. 

“I thought all good kings were warriors. My grandfather Barathen had been a warrior,as was my father Llane, and so was I. I was wrong. We were kings who just happened to take to swords.” Varian continued. “Your weapon, be it a blade or an arrow or magic, does not determine your ability to be a good king. Who you are besides that makes you a good king. Your heart, your mind, your spirit.”

Anduin couldn’t hold back the tears, gushing down his face, soft and quiet cries coming from his throat. He nearly dropped the key, feeling weak to the words his father spoke. They were everything he needed to hear. 

“I wished-” Anduin wiped at his tears angrily, as though they were a sign of weakness. “-I wished so much that I was more like you, Father. I do want to be a great king...but I...I am not...as strong.”

Varian watched as his son’s eyes grew red from the irritation. Anduin himself never saw being open, being emotional, and crying, as a weakness, but the world in which he was raised told him so. There was a lot the world told him that wasn’t true, and Varian couldn’t help but think about how he had been a part of that. A part of those lies. 

He pulled his son into a gentle hug. 

“No, Anduin.” He comforted him, letting him cry. “You’ve always had more courage than I, and it all flows from a place deep within your heart.”

Anduin gave a weak chuckle, rubbing his head into his father’s chest, “my big dumb heart.”

“The world needs more ‘big dumb hearts’,” Varian replied. “Remember what your uncle Magni used to say? Strength comes in many forms-”

The two finished the line in unison, “-both small and large.”

Both enjoyed the silence that followed, Anduin hugging his father back, basking in the moment, for the last time they shared a meaningful hug was far too long ago. Anduin’s relationship with his father was rocky, and dealing with their differences was challenging. He’d always wanted to be closer, to be able to confide in his father with things he could tell no one else. It seemed that his wishes would come true, as long as they continued to understand each other. 

Both have their own journey in life, both will struggle and adapt to the world around them, and while it’s possible to survive this life by themselves, there would be nothing better than to be by each other's sides. To give aid in the time of need, to fill in the flaws of the other. Healing was a big part of growing as a person, and both of them needed healing, something the other could help with. 

“You’ll figure out who you are, I have no doubt.” Varian pulled away, grinning as Anduin met his look. “You will always have my support.”

Anduin felt too emotional to reply, nodding his head and looking back down to the key. Varian stepped away, taking a moment to enjoy the slight breeze. Heard the distant sound of the leaves crunching under a new weight. 

“So,” Varian gained his son’s attention again, smirking at him. “Tell me, what direction do you think the ambush will come?”

Anduin smiled, placing the key inside the arrow quiver and readying his bow, as his father readied Shalamayne. 

See, both of the Wrynn boys knew more about Archbishop Benedictus then the priest thought they knew, for his actions during the cataclysm traveled to the crown through the mouths of the Alliance champions. The man was not to be trusted, and Varian had Shaw’s eyes on him for a long time. This meeting out at Tiffin’s grave stone, covered in trees and plant life, far from the eyes of the public and oddly quiet of any royal guards, was the perfect place to be ambushed. 

It was clear from the start to both of them, this was a trap, and bringing them together over a grave was almost funny how obvious the priest was being. The Twilight Hammer wanted them dead, and surrounded them in the shadows of the plant life, aiming to kill both the king and his son. 

Considerate, he was, to give the pair one last meaningful moment together, huh?

Upon reading their weapons, the cultists emerged from the shadows, angry that they had been detected. They wore robes of deep purples and conjured dark magics to use against the crown. 

As the cultists began to cast their magic, Varian jumped forward to either stop or block their attacks, Anduin stepping backwards towards the wall of which his mother’s stone stood against, protecting his back while firing out arrows at his attackers. 

Varian was quick to take down the first attacker, and moved to slice his sword through any who turned their spells towards his son. Anduin appreciated the aid, but his practice in marksmanship served him well, and he managed to take down two of the cultists on his own. His arrows found their way into the cultists’ chests, their bodies dropping into the green grass that surrounded the queen’s grave. 

Varian let out a beast like growl as he took down one of the last of the cultists, pulling his blood drenched sword out from their collapsing body. 

“Father!!” Anduin yelled “Over there!”

Varian turned to see Anduin pointing, his quiver fresh out of arrows. Varian followed his sight to see one last culists, chanting in a tongue he did not know, summoning a portal larger than the trees. What the summoner hoped to bring to the fight, neither Wrynn wanted to find out. Varian raced over, raising Shalamayne high, and bringing it down against the chest of the summoner. 

Despite taking him down, the portal remained, purple swirling violently and threateningly. 

“Father get back!” Anduin kept his eyes on the portal, glancing only to see his father step back.

From the dark depths of the portal, large legs appeared, following the body of a beast as tall as the trees. It’s claws dug into the earth, his growl rigging their ears, and it’s tail swept, cutting at the flowers decorating the graveyard grounds. Before them, as the portal disappeared behind the beast, was a giant drakonid, a half dragon and half man monster. It stood tall on two monster feet, holding an equally giant axe. It wore purple plate armor, covered in the symbols of the Twilight Hammer, the beast glowing with protection spells. 

Varian was quick to attack the beast, the red-orange glow of Shalamayne igniting into a brighter spark. Though he stood like a child compared to the dragon beast, he knew how to take down foes that were ten times his size. His sword sliced off parts of the beast’s ankles and knees, hoping to topple the thing. The drakonid hissed in pain, attempting to slame it’s weapon down upon the human, missing by inches. Blood and fits of it’s own flesh trashed the ground below, and each swing of the sword made it angier. 

Anduin felt frozen, watching his father with great anxiety. He had no idea what to do, his arrows gone, his brain slow to process the events before him. He felt the tingle of energy at the tips of his fingers, a sensation he knew to be from the light, having just returned from his teachings with Velen at the Exodar. That said, he was far too slow to realize what exactly the light was telling him. 

In that of only a moment, Varian’s attacks against the drakonid were pushed back, the human slipping upon the red wet ground below. Time seemed to slow down, as Anduin screamed out, and the enemy’s large axe blade came crashing down upon his father’s chest. 

The crunch of bone echoed against the stones, consuming Anduin’s hearing, his memory, and leaving him breathless. The light burned now, but in that moment something else changed from within him. A power not bestowed by the light, no, it was something from within him he had never felt before. 

His father’s metal armor curled and bent to the axe’s command, blood gushing from the wound ashis ribcage shattered. The organs protected underneath were left damaged in a state Anduin could not determine yet without getting closer. Without facing the drakonid. 

Despite being slammed to the ground, despite gasping for the air that no longer existed, Varian’s weakening gaze had left that of the beast before him and now rested on his son. His son was free from harm, be it as best this moment could provide. His only child, his son, and the only light in his life. Their gazes met, and Varian’s eyes softened with relief. What he was relieved of, Anduin couldn’t at all understand, but he could see his own father come to terms with it. 

As the dust settled, and the drakonid’s voice boomed in triumphant laughter, Anduin’s own stare widened with horror. Varian lay sprawled and twisted under the drakonid’s axe, his body uncharacteristically still.

This. 

This was how it always ended for Wrynn kings. 

A weak, distant whisper caught the boy’s attention, as his father summoned the last of his dying consciousness to tell him to run.

But Anduin couldn’t run, his feet frozen to the ground, his hands burning with yellow sparks, a pool of red energy swirling around inside his chest, clawing at his bones to be set free, to let it’s wings stretch. 

A murder, witnessed by the son, within the safety of their own home.

A trauma that would last for all generations to come. 

The beast pulled the axe from Varian’s chest with a strangely numb tug. There was no more pain, no more sadness. The man knew he would die as he had lived. Stepping towards the child, the drakonid raised his blade overhead, it’s notched and bloody surface glistening in the setting sun. 

At least Tiffin was here to guide him into eternal rest. 

But the prince felt no peace, no relief, and a flood of pain and sadness. Anger sparked within, causing him to shake in rage, the light’s energy at war with that of his own inner power. His eyes went red. His tears burned his skin, as though they were lava. 

Memories flashed in the red, of a father and son, of moments now lost to history. 

He let out a howling screech, agonizing pain laced within his cry, commanding the light’s powers into an attack, one no bow and arrow could replicate. 

The boy leaped forward, unafraid, as he cast out holy spells. Holy Nova pushed the beast back, stunning him from his perceived victory. The beast growled, sweeping his axe in an attack, however blocked with a Power Word: Barrier. Surprised by the boy’s defense, having assumed him to be an easy target without his father’s aid, the beast stumbled back.

Anduin cast out a dispel, removing the beast’s protections, a light purple glow around his body disappearing. A wave of energy shook the graves, sending waves through the nearby lake.

The drakonid howled, preparing another attack, however Anduin beat him to it. He cast out Holy Fire, an inferno raining down upon the land the beast walked, only burning him. The drakonid fell, crying out in pain, the fire consuming him. 

Anduin walked up to the beast, channeling the light’s burning in his fingertips into one last spell. He called down from the heavens a beam of light, crashing down from the clouds onto the burning beast. The beast let out one final scream, the light blinding them both for only moments, before leaving Anduin alone. 

The beast’s corpse continued to burn away slowly, yet the anger in Anduin’s heart still turned. 

As the sounds died in his ears, and the wind stilled, Anduin turned his attention from the beast, sprinting over to his father’s body, nearly tripping onto the bloodied ground. His tears came faster, his angry screams turned to sorrowful weeping. The light’s energy within him as gone, but a mournful echo still curled within him. 

His father’s face was at peace, his skin pale compared to the tan he normally had. His scars dulled, his eyes closed. His body, though covered in the best armor a man could make, laid broken below. 

As Anduin placed his hands hesitantly onto his father’s arm, gently shaking, the wind around him picked up, slowly becoming the only thing he could hear. It blocked out the distant cries of his aunt, screaming his name. 

This was how it ended. 

He would be king again, yet this time he could not fall upon the knowledge that his father was alive. He could not fall back upon the distractions of childhood and a toddler’s imagination. He could not fall back on that of an adoptive father and general leading the reigns as an uncrowned king, or that of a motherly advisor with black hair and deserving glares. He could’t go back to that, nor could he bare the crown alone.

He couldn’t do this. 

He couldn’t be the hero his father was.

He couldn’t be the king he was. 

The wind was too loud. 

He balled his fists, ignoring the hands of his crying aunt attempting to pull him away from his father. He bowed to the dragon’s energy within. 

“NO!” He screamed, birds from the trees fleeing, his voice startling the city. “THIS IS NOT HOW IT ENDS!”

Anduin Wrynn was 14 when it first happened. When he pulled from his own essence, mixed with the essence forced upon him. 

He’d think back on this moment, believing the surge of power to be from his teachings in the light, from his gift with it, however the explosions within his chest was something the light didn’t cause. 

“THIS IS NOT OUR FATE!” 

He screamed into the sky, pulling from the energy he felt inside, the power different from the light’s blessing, painful and burning, flickering like fire, sparkling like embers. This power came not from the clouds above, but from himself. 

His eyes burned a deep red, no longer just of anger, tears blurring his sight, as red and yellow and orange danced around him, traveling from his chest into the air, channeled into his father’s body. The red seeped into his father’s wounds, the man glowing in the same way. 

HIs aunt gasped, backing away, fearful of the power she did not recognize, of the glow of his eyes. 

As the last of his rage and energy left his body, the powers he felt calmed, the glowing magic disappearing. Below him, movement. He looked down, his father’s chest repaired with only a large fresh sensitive scar running from his shoulders to his lower sides. His father gasped for air, his eyes fluttering open with life that he did not have moments ago. The boy broken down more, pulling his father into a tight hug, and crying. 

Behind him, Jaina watched with confusion, having witnessed her nephew do something she had no precious idea he could. A single question was uttered without any thought. 

“Who….who are you?”

-...-

Who are you? 

It was a question that could only be properly answered when considering the context it was asked with. It could be interpreted as a number of other questions. Where do you come from? What have you become? What are your passions? What drives your actions? 

What makes you the person you are. 

What makes you the person you think you are, or what makes you the person others think you are? 

It was a confusing question, but one that Anduin asked himself constantly throughout his life. His answer was never final, and most of the time he had no answer at all.

He’d been told once, long ago, that he would know the true answer one day, he would just feel it. He remembered asking Alexstrasza about one’s own essence, and if he would know what it was when he felt it. He’d always thought that he would never truly know the answer to who he was, for he was always a changing and growing being, leading him to wonder just how true Alexstrasza’s statement had been.

How could he know the feeling of his essense when he had almost never known it existed at all? 

He imagined that his essence would echo his self, who he was, and that worked for everyone else and their own essence. His would be like the light, maybe, and would be soft and soothing. He was known to be soft, to heal and not harm. But he could be wrong. 

He wondered if a dragon’s essence burned, like the fire they breathed. Alexstrasza’s was red, but was that because she was a red dragon? Was it because fire was red? Would his essence be blue or yellow? What of a black dragon’s? 

There was no use asking questions he would not get the answer to. Not now. 

The overwhelming smell of fel brought Anduin from his sleep. He blinked a few times, his eyes more blue, small hints of red dulled by his human fear. He felt the chains pull at his skin, much tighter then they had been before, when he could snap and hiss at the imps. He could still shift around, eyeing the liquid fel dripping from the ceiling, and the puddles it’s formed on the ground below. The puddles were growing. 

He sat there, quiet and cold, his legs restless and shaking, his knee aching. His mind felt numb, he felt all of the anxiety and terror he’d gone through the last week, two weeks, had drained him of feeling. He was terrified, but he was losing the feelings that came with terror. He’d been overloaded with emotion, all in too short of a time period. 

He could attribute this to the many times he’d felt so stressed, and for too long, that the stress would vanish, leaving him tired and accepting of his fate. 

He didn’t want to accept his fate this time. 

He remembered the orc, the one who called him ‘Wrynn grandson’, and shivered at the memory. 

He did not want to meet that orc. 

He watched the demons attempt to pester him, mocking him, playing around in front of his cell. He learned that if he didn’t give them any attention, they’d eventually leave. Most of them. The imps were persistent, wanting to see him suffer, angry at his last attack. 

He’d not seen the crystal they stole, and heard no words from the commander. He was sure it was destroyed by now, a lost cause. He was surprised they’d not come to punish him for having it, but it also surprised him that they didn’t remove it upon first capturing him. 

He fell back into his thoughts, over escape, over worry for Westfall, and for his father, and for Azeroth and the arrival for it’s newest enemies. When he came back out of his thoughts, he saw before him only one imp left in the room with him.

The imp watched him, though it’s gaze was directed at the shiny buttons on his clothing. Anduin shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to feel about the lone demon. He could read a hunger in its eyes, and realize it liked the buttons for their shine. Imps were the lowest of the low in the demon kingdom, and never got to command anything, while all the other demons could at least command him. This was the reason, Anduin knew, why imps were possessive of objects they assigned value to. 

An idea came to mind. 

“You want this?” Anduin asked quietly, pointing to the buttons. 

The imp grinned, nodding violently. 

“I’ll trade you.”

The imp instantly frowned, shaking it’s head, stepping back. It glared at him, it’s response clear. 

So, Anduin thought, the buttons were not as valuable to the imp as he thought. Not enough to betray it’s masters. For a moment, Anduin felt his idea was already dead, but then he wondered if he had anything else the imp might value more. 

“What about…”

Anduin tried to relax, reaching into his shoulder, as he’s done multiple times before, and pull off yet another scale. He felt a prick of pain, but ignored it, showing the imp the shiny black dragon scale. 

“...this?”

The imp gazed at it, seeing the deep purple and orange colors behind black. It was beautiful, and incredibly valuable to more then just imps. It was a rare object to all mortals, which made it so much more enticing them a few buttons. Anduin saw amazement in the imp’s eyes, excitement, it grabbing the bars while jumping up and down.

“More! MORE!” It yelled, shocking Anduin.

“You- You want more?!” He asked, the imp nodding. 

Anduin frowned. The imps weren’t idiots, this one knew Anduin wanted something, knew he would give up a lot more to get it. Imps learned a thing or two over centuries of watching prisoners. 

Anduin broke off two more scales, feeling the patch on his whelpling shoulder grow. It was unfortunate for him, but what were three scales to a chance at freedom?

He held them out. “I’ll give you these if you unlock the chains-”

The imp nodded his head and danced. 

“-AND this cell.”

The imp paused, as if in deep thought. For a moment, Anduin feared the imp would back out, and that he’d pulled his own scales for nothing. Not that it was a big lose to him personally, but he desperately wanted freedom. The imp looked towards the doorway, afraid to be seen, but then looked back to the scales. They were too beautiful. 

“Yes!”

The imp agreed, and reached into the cell to snatch the scales from Anduin’s hand. It danced around the room with the scales, laughing with glee over it’s new possessions. It most likely had the most rare objects of any of the imps on the ship, and Anduin couldn’t imagine how happy the imp must be. He really couldn’t, he watched in fear as the imp seemed to forget that it had made a deal. 

His heart jumped as he watched the imp squeal, leaving the room. He could hear it’s laughter disappear down the hall.

‘F-FUCK!’ Anduin growled, angry at himself for trusting the demon, hitting himself in the head. He curled into himself, starting to shake. He thought about how stupid he was, and how the imp would run to it’s master to rat on him, and they would punish him for his stupid actions. He’d hope to be given a chance at freedom, for the imp to turn it’s back, and THIS was what he got. 

Hoping never did him any good, did it?

While he suffered, the imp ran back into the room, nearly slipping on a puddle of fel. He jumped over to the cell, a key in hand, reaching up to unlock the cage.

“DEAL!” The imp echoed, grinning at Anduin.

Anduin watched, wide-eyed, as the imp both unlocked the door AND removed the chains binding him to the wall. The imp smiled, pushing the chains to the wall and dropping the key along with them.

“DEAL!” He yelled again with laughter. 

Anduin slowly stood up, watching the imp walk away.

“Th-thank you?” He asked.

“THANK YOU!” The imp yelled back before disappearing.

Anduin felt stunned, taking in what just happened and calming down. He shook his head, knowing that he needed to act quickly before the other demons realized he was free. Transforming into a whelp to better sneak around the ship and find an exit, Anduin stepped out of his cell. 

-...-

Varian played with the bindings of the metal bracer on his arm, an unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach. He looked up, out in the the skys leading away from Stormwind bay, as he stood upon the Sky Fire. The Alliance’s best warship, built to withstand an army, built to hold and keep safe her king. It was lowered to the docks, soldiers climbing aboard, supplies transported on deck for battle.

The wind was far too loud.

“I assume you’ve spoken with the nobles?”

Behind, Genn Greymane walked up, his arms resting behind him. He stood beside the king, watching the workers prepare to leave Stormwind. 

“No.” 

Genn glanced at Varian, frowning. His answer was unexpected of a king, but the worgen king was not surprised with his friend.

“And if you fall?” Genn asked, looking away.

Varian was silent. He knew better. He didn’t want to face the truth, no matter how real death had always been to him.

Anduin was gone, the likelihood of him making it back home, and being welcomed home, small. Should Varian not return, the nobles would need to find someone to take the throne. Varian could leave behind a recommendation, however he felt it a lost cause. Dealing with stuck up nobles only ever lead to fighting. 

“Maybe…”

Varian looked downwards, thinking back to his wishes and desires for Stormwind, for his people, for the Alliance. He thought about who he was, who he wanted to be. The future he dreamed of, for both he and his son.

“....Maybe Wrynns have worn the crown for too long.”

Genn looked with horror at his friend, yet Varian did not seem to react at all to his own confession. It sounded much darker then he’d intended, but he didn’t feel like elaborating anymore. While Genn believed him to accept death, to accept his son’s death, Varian thought of a future he could fight for. One in which the crown no longer burdened his family. 

One where they were free. 

“Varian…”

Varian shook his head, turning away from Genn. 

“Let me know when the ship is ready to leave.”

Varian made his way into the ship, down below the deck, finding his way into the king’s office. He pulled the thick wooden chair out from under his wooden desk, sitting down in the weight of the plate strapped to his body. He lit a nearby candle, letting it’s quiet crackle distract him from the sounds above him. 

Shuffling around maps and letters, he pulled out a clean sheet, dipping a pen in ink, and began drafting a letter, not to any noble, but to his son. 

-...-

The Burning Legion was full of idiots. 

Morons!

Imbeciles!

And they were shit at hiding too, Wrathion thought angrily.

Finding the ship that escaped Westfall with Prince Anduin was made significantly easier with the blue crystal, however Wrathion was sure he could have found it had he had time to waste. The damn thing sat off the edge of the Eastern Kingdoms, a couple miles out to sea from Westfall’s coast, far above the ocean. In plain view. 

Any scavenger ship or pirate traveling out of Stranglethorn up the coast would have been able to spot the damn thing. 

And- AND- The stupid thing had a loud hum that rippled the water below. 

Wrathion let out a deep breath, relaxing himself, as he found his way upon the ship. He stood in the shadows of one of the lower rooms, holding out in his hands the blue crystal, feeling it’s energy draw him along, towards the location of it’s pink sister crystal, and Anduin Wrynn. 

He took to whelpling form, being able to disappear into the shadows to escape the notice of any demon he passed. While following the crystal’s lead, Wrathion made use of another crystal. A blood gem, connecting him to his Blacktalon agents. He did not come alone, he was no fool. The ship was full of agents, searching for intel, and preparing to burn the entire ship. 

“Mission status?” Wrathion asked his agents, specifically Left and Right, whom helped gather and prepare the other Blacktalon. 

“As planned, my prince.” came Left’s reply. 

“A couple minutes until everything is in place, sir.” replied Right. 

“Good.”

Wrathion turned his attention away from the blood gem, climbing up the ship onto it’s highest story of rooms, dodging the eyes of demons with ease. He found himself before the main control room, the room the ship’s commander resided in, and braced himself to rescue his friend.

His friend. 

Oddly, at that moment the word itself felt….wrong. No, not wrong, but not right. 

He shook it off, following in the shadows of a nobody warlock as they walked into the room. He walked along following the warlock’s footsteps, making no obvious noise, and then hid in the shadows of the room to scout out the area. 

He saw demons working, warlocks walking in and out of the room, imps giggling and laughing and a fel hound barking at them. He saw empty cages, mostly, for only a few held any being. The ones that did held weeping draenei, the broken, and few held skeletons. In the middle of the room, commanding a small group of warlocks, was the commander. The tallest and largest demon on the ship. 

In his hands, the pink crystal.

Wrathion panicked, looking around the room multiple times, only to realize Anduin was not here. He frowned, realizing that the prince MUST still be here, somewhere, if the commander had the crystal that belonged to him. He returned his attention to the blood gem again.

“Sweep the ship for Anduin. The crystal has led me to nothing.” 

“Of course, your highness.” 

He glared out at the back of the commander, anger forming in his chest. It warmed him, more than he already was, and he knew what he both wanted to and had to do. 

He stepped out of the shadows, in humanoid form, eyes locked on the commander, the blue crystal twirled in his fingers. His boots tapping against the flooring brought all attention in the room, the commander turning around to face the intruder. 

“What do we have here?” The demon growled, standing tall and summoning a weapon to his side. The other warlocks and demons took on a defensive stance, but waited for the commander to give order. 

“You’ve stolen something that-”

“That is yours?” The commander cut him off, smirking at the blue crystal in Wrathion’s grasp, holding high the pink one he had. “You are brave, I give you that.”

Wrathion growled, reaching out his free hand towards the nearest demon, channeling the rage in his heart, the dark deep reds of power from within. Almost on command, the demon crumbled into ash under a red flame. 

The commander motioned his hand, “Kill him.”

Wrathion watched as demons jumped towards him, unafraid of their attempts to end him. He’d grown in power since his days in Pandaria. His Blacktalon numbers had grown as well. As Wrathion cast a wave of lava out towards the demons, two Blacktalon agents jumped from the shadows, shoving their daggers into the throats of two warlocks, caught in the middle of summoning portals. 

The commander stepped back, angry as his minions fell to the trio. He sent out more of his demon servants, only for them to be burned away, back into the twisting nether. The warlocks he was originally addressing shifted uncomfortably, giving in to his glare when told to step forward and defend their masters. 

The warlocks stepped in front of the commander, not wasting time, prefering to attack directly instead of summon their portals. They saw from before that the time it took to summon a portal would likely be too long, and the knives of their enemies would have found a home in their necks before aid came. 

“Defend me!” Wrathion shouted to the two Blacktalon, jumping into whelp form to fly above the warlocks, over the commander, and landing behind him. 

While the Blacktalon agents stopped the warlocks and any incoming demons, the commander turned to face the Black Prince. The prince’s red eyes flickered like flames, taunting the demon. How dare this whelpling face me? How dare he believe himself strong enough to face the Burning Legion? Who did he think he was?

The commander raised his weapon high, the legion’s blade shining in the fel lighting. An attempt to blind Wrathion did nothing, and the weapon swung down in hopes to catch the prince’s legs. Wrathion dodged it in whelpling form, flying out of the commander’s range and easily making it harder to hit him. He fell back into half-elf form, sliding back on the smooth flooring, balls of flames forming in his talons. 

Through his blood gem, he called to the two other blacktalons to move, and he channeled his energy, his anger, into a dense beam of molten lava. The commander tried to block the attack, as if it were a lesser spellcast, the beam pushing him back, chewing through his weapon in seconds, and then hitting him dead on. 

The magma burned through the commander’s body, his howls of pain ripping through the entire ship. His form, though different from that of a mortal’s, still fell to the fires, hitting the floor with a loud thud. 

Wrathion watched the demon burn, the fires filling the room with smoke. He walked up to the remains, grabbing the pink crystal before it was touched by embers and ash. He held them together, in the same hand, and gazed at their growing glows. They reacted when placed together, a glitter-like quality appear on their surfaces.

“My Prince,” Left’s voice was heard from the blood gem.

“Yes?”

“Prince Wrynn is not here.”

His breath stilled for a moment, looking up at the other two blacktalon, standing closer to the doorway, demon blood covering their blades. He looked from them to the crystals he held, He toyed with them. They were beautiful. Beautiful, and sorrowful. 

“Demons whisper that he was to be transported to another ship.” Right spoke up. “We are too late.”

Wrathion growled, gripping the crystals harder, anger returning. Fire igniting in his heart, blood boiling in his veins. 

“Evacuate.” He hissed into the gem, commanding all of his agents. “I will burn her down.”

Wrathion received confirmation from Left and Right, and watched as the two defending Blacktalon agents nodded and disappeared into the shadows. He strolled around the commander’s room, taking his time to reach the exit, letting his agents have time to leave before he activated their bombs. 

As he did, he thought about why he was here. His motivations. His desires. 

Prince Anduin Wrynn was the first to willingly show him kindness, the first who did not need to be paid. Since then, others followed in the human’s judgement, including that of his hard headed father, and their stubborn human kingdom. Wrathion cherished the trust they gave him, knowing just how valuable it was. Friends did not come easily, nor many, to him, the son of Deathwing, and he knew that. 

He cared deeply for the friends that he had. 

That said, the effort he placed into burning an entire legion battleship down in a fit of rage made him question his desire to call the human prince his friend. Though he did not have much experience to base this off of, he doubted he would do all this for ‘just a friend’. 

Anduin Wrynn was different. He didn’t feel the same towards him as he did, say, Left and Right. 

What he DID feel, he was unsure, and would not dare say yet. 

He was pulled from his thoughts as he heard the door leading into the commander’s room open. His blazing eyes burned a hole into the shocked and frightened stare of a small, lone imp. 

In the imp’s hands, three onyxian whelp scales. 

Wrathoin was blinded with rage, smoke spilling from his mouth as he spoke, as the fires inside him roared higher. His pointed teeth only scared the imp more, the poor thing turning to run, only to be caught by the neck with claws. 

“WHERE IS HE?!” Wrathion’s voice sounded deep, monsterous. 

The imp cried out, dropping the scales onto the floor, struggling against the talons on his neck.

“D-DEAL!” It cried, “DEALDEALDEAL!”

Wrathion felt disgusted, setting the demon aflame, letting it crumble to ash, it’s screams disappearing along with its body. 

He looked down at the scales, picking them up to examine them. He again felt the pain of having to remove his own scale, the bleeding it caused, the time it would take for him to recover. The deal he made. 

He placed the scales within his coat, resting inside a pocket that also contained letters. Letters, and a tiny device. He took out the device, playing with it wiht his fingers.

They had had enough time.

He pressed the glowing red button, and the ship shook violently, the prince nearly losing his footing. Explosions echoed throughout the rooms and halls of the ship, fire bursting into the room, heat taking over. 

Had it not been a ship crashing into the sea, Wrathion might have stayed in the calming warmth, it’s temperature reminiscent of the middle of a proper black dragon’s lair. 

He instead took off into whelpling form, escaping from the falling hunk of metal through the nearest shattered window. 

-...-

The wind was loud in his ears.

It raced past him and his wings as he sped away from the legion ship, now passing Westfall’s coast and entering the domain of Stormwind Bay. 

Anduin wasn’t aiming to return home, only to go around the city and finally reach Blackrock Mountain, for it still called to him and promised answers. He did, however, fly this way in hopes to view his home again, for he missed it dearly. He missed it, he missed his father, he missed safety. 

As he flew by, and the city opened up from the mountains, he gazed longingly at it’s many colorful rooftops. He gazed at the distant keep, and hoped that all was alright.

It wasn’t, he knew, for the city missed their prince. 

But he could not return home.

Not yet.

He turned to see the SkyFire in the distance, high in the sky and flying away from the harbor. Suddenly, curiosity overcame him, and he felt a pull. He followed the ship, flying faster in it’s shadows as he attempted to catch up with it without being seen by it’s lookout. He dipped down, just above the surface of the ocean to blend in against the sun’s blinding rays. 

Upon coming directly under the ship, he turned upwards, flying until he could land sneak into the ship’s bomb port. The ship was dark, arcane torches dimly lighting up the insides. It was meant to reduce the chance of burning down the ship, the arcane working more as just a glow then a proper fire. It also made it easier to wander up the ship, Anduin’s dark scales blending into the shadows. 

Most of the ship’s crew were residing on the ship’s two lowest floors, Anduin watching the soldiers and crew dig into rations and sharpen their weapons. It was what they normally did, the trip to the battlefield taking sometimes hours. Some wrote in journals, some drew, but they all spent time to themselves before they would eventually face whatever danger was to come. 

They all ignored the death that may come, and it was something Anduin did not like to think about. 

Anduin found himself hiding in the shadows of the soldier’s supplies, the smells of rations reaching the whelp’s nose, and his stomach growling. He hadn’t eaten in so long, and the Legion didn’t feed him. He stared at the open box of rations, yet knew that he’d be caught if he stepped out now, while others were walking by to grab their fill. 

The hunger boiled, but he shook his head, looking away, ignoring it. 

He managed to climb up to the floor below the deck, finding it slightly harder to navigate. More royal soldiers occupied this area, Anduin realizing that his father was more then likely somewhere here. 

He saw other guards, the Greyguard, Greymane’s men. He saw some of Gelbin Mekkatorque’s guards. There were other Alliance leaders here. 

Whatever battle they headed towards, it was dangerous. 

Anduin shoved himself against the walls, watching as Mathias Shaw walked down from the deck, making his way across the floor, towards the king’s office. His heart beat quickly, and he nearly squealed when he swore he saw the spymaster glance at him. 

But the man did not stop, said nothing, only smirked, and disappeared from Anduin’s sight, into the next room. 

Anduin retreated back down into the lower floors, deciding not to risk being seen again like that. 

He found a warm spot away from any arcane torches, in a cave-like space under a mountain of crates and supplies. He curled up, listening to the distant chatter of the soldiers, watching as feet walked by every now and then. He closed his eyes, resting and hoping that eventually the soldiers were leave the area to tend to other duties, and he could steal a ration without being caught. 

Before he could properly relax, something slid across the floor, into his tiny cave, and booped his nose. He opened his eyes to see a hearthstone. He looked out to see a crewmember having dropped a backpack, struggling to shove everything back inside that had fallen out. The dwarf looked around, making sure she had grabbed everything, not realizing the hearthstone had fallen out. 

Anduin thought, momentarily, that he could gently nudge it out of the cave of crates, and she might see it in the light. But she moved on, and he was left with the hearthstone. 

He stared at it, knowing not where it lead, but that it was an offering from the gods he wasn’t going to throw away. He nipped at it, dragging it closer, pulling it under his curled body so that he could use it for later. 

He then sighed, dropping his head to rest against the cold floor, and waited. 

-...-

When Anduin awoke, it was to water filling his lungs, and the loud snapping and crunching of wood against stone. 

The whelpling began to panic, thrashing around to see nothing but the deep blue see, and the eerie tint of green from distant light. He saw crates fall down into the depths below him, and the drowning remains of the SkyFire falling down upon him. 

If he didn’t move, he’d go down with the ship. 

He looked down to see the hearthstone falling slowly, and he used his wings to propel himself downward. His talons caught the stone, pulling it against his chest and gripping it tightly. He then turned upward, using his wings to dodge debree and escape from under the ship. 

The water was difficult to maneuver through, but having wings made it so much easier then what he’d have to deal with stuck in human form. He quickly made his way upwards, or what he thought was up, as only the light from the fel green sky showed him the way out. 

The air in his lungs was not enough, and it became harder and harder to focus as he approached the surface. His claws felt loose, and he nearly dropped the hearthstone, twitching as he tried to focus. He closed his eyes, pushing harder against the water, ignoring the burn in his chest, and the fear of drowning. 

Breaking out of the depths, head above water, he cried out, coughing up water while struggling to stay afloat, too tired to lift off. He shook his head, looking around to see the rubble of both a destroyed Alliance AND Horde ship. Despite their fall, he saw many many smaller boats parked against the shoreline, and soldiers fighting against demons. 

His claws dug into the hearthstone as he swam to a large grouping of rocks placed against the beach, reaching into the ocean. It was far enough away that he could make it without drowning, as well as just out of the sight of both armies. 

His head dunked below the surface a few times, the ocean burning at his eyes, his wings dipping below the surface to help push him back up and towards the rocks. His hind legs were aching, much like they did when crushed by the bell, and he wasn’t sure just how much longer he could go. 

He did eventually make it to the rocks, gasping as he attempted to climb up onto the rocks and out of the water. He nearly dropped the hearthstone many times, his claws digging into the rocks and causing chunks to fall and crash into the sea. His wings stretched out and bat at the air, allowing him to scramble onto the rock, and give out into desperate breaths. 

He succumbed to darkness again, the sounds of battle growing distant, and fading to silence. 

-...-

He returned to consciousness to silence. 

He ached, shaking himself awake and standing up to look around and remember who and where he was. 

Below him, the hearthstone. Looking upwards, he saw evidence of war, of a battle pushed forward. He saw a few Horde and Alliance soldiers, standing watch at the shore, healing the wounded, and protecting the boats, as well as their escape. 

He heard the deep rumble of a horn, and in the distant, a light from the dark grey clouds. He felt the sound through the rocks he laid on, and heard gasps from the nearby Horde soldiers. They shouted of retreat, and the Alliance soldiers watched with confusion as their allies raced towards their boats. The Alliance soldiers looked to each other, panicked, unsure of what to do, and if to follow onto their own boats. 

Anduin, however, grabbed his hearthstone, launching off into the sky towards the raging battle, now much much farther into the heart of the island. He saw below him remains of both dead demons and dead allies. He passed large fel lakes, one with a rather large dead demon, and an ice bridge nearby. He followed the paths, below him the forsaken leader escaping on undead horseback along with the body of her warchief. The sight frightened the whelp, and he quickened his pace. 

He saw before him, reaching the middle of the island, another Alliance warship, slightly smaller then the SkyFire, turning away and escaping into the air, a large hunk of wood torn from its side. He saw Genn howling, taring into the wooden railing in distress and sorrow. He saw Mekkatorque as well, but he did not see his father. 

A yell was heard from below, Anduin seeing the demons surround a single figure, and stab swords through his chest. Their victim dropped his swords, their red and blue glows flickering. 

His father was presented before a single hunched orc, who laughed and mocked the dying high king, calling to his hand a sickly green flame. 

Rage. 

Anduin felt rage inside his chest. 

He cried out, the orc below frowning and looking up just in time to be hit with several light-infused fireballs. The orc dropped the fel flame, gasping as the whelp slammed it’s body into his, knocking him back and into the ground. The whelp slid across the dirt, landing hard against it’s wings, crying out in pain as he felt nothing else. 

Settling himself with his claws, forcing himself to stop tumbling, he located the hearthstone only a few feet away, grabbing it with his mouth and then hoping over to his father. 

Varian lay against the ground, two large bleeding wounds on his shoulder and lower side, stabbed from behind by the demons who circled them. The fel flame had gotten to close, and like a crater, a dent in his chest bleed fel liquid and burned fel fire. Slowly, cracks formed, making their way outwards, infecting the rest of his body. 

Anduin dropped the hearthstone , returning to human form, shouting out Power Word: Barrier, stopping the demon army from coming any closer. He shook violently, taking in the sight of his father before him, watching as the man failed to respond to his presence. 

“F-Father!” He cried out, tears blurring his sight. “I’m here, Father!”

A weak groan came from below, and Varian’s eyes opened slightly, his gaze distant, but there. The green glow on his chest reacted to each moment, each noise he made, and continued to consume, and to kill. 

His father said nothing, and his eyes closed again. Despite not responding verbally, the man was still clearly alive, and Anduin fought his panic to find a way to save him. 

“I-I’ve got you! You’ll be okay! You’ll be okay!”

He called to the light, the one thing he knew was a savior in times like this, begging the light for it’s aid. It’s power flooded into him, energy burning his fingertips, and he rushed to use it upon his father. He placed his hands onto the man, shouting healing spells, the golden light traveling between the two men. Anduin watched as the light closed and healed the sword wounds, however burned and hissed when coming into contact with the fel. 

It took him far too long to realize that the light was only harming his father, and that the fel could not be cleansed with it alone. 

“Shit!” He cried, “UH- UM-”

He could smell the blood of the fallen around him, the smell of any battlefield, but in this moment it hit him much harder. Struggling to come up with his neck corse of action, and the demons attempting to get closer, past his shield, he remembered something that Alexstrasza had told him. 

‘All dragons can heal. Our blood can be used to mend wounds’ she told him, ‘The black flight’s blood is weakest on dragons, but the strongest for lesser mortal races.’

He’d never used blood to heal, had no clue how it worked, but he was desperate, scared, and afraid of facing his father’s death. He would not give up, even in his state of uncertainty. 

He bit down hard onto his wrist, pain blinding him, a scream escaping through his teeth as blood swelled around them, dripping down onto the dirt below. He held out his arm, shaking it to make the blood drip down onto the fel on his father’s chest quicker, cracks forming in the light barrier that protected him. 

The blood hit the fel wounds, burning and sizzling against it. At first it appeared to do nothing, yet as the blood seeped down into the cracks, the flames of the fel began to flicker and die down, the expanding cracks stopping and dimming. 

But the center of the crater still held oozing toxic energy, and the blood alone would not save him. Not the amount Anduin could give. Especially when he was not fully a dragon. 

He dropped his arm to his side, trying his best to ignore the pain, watching as the fel flame continued to sap the life from his father. 

Fel was a powerful, evil force, one that Anduin never needed to face like this before. He remembered the stories of the legion, and how it sapped the life from each planet it came to. It was no wonder their strongest weapon was that of the horrid fel power. In that moment, hatred consumed him, a rage towards fel he’d never felt towards anything or anyone else. 

The mere fact that it existed, and stole away the one he loved most, caused the energy within his chest to ignite. Caused his eyes to burst into a red flame. 

Fire burned in his hand, where the light had been, and it’s oddly empowering burn flooded his entire body. Everything around him seemed to dim, and glowing reds and oranges consumed his vision, all coming from within himself. 

He felt echos of another’s onyxian power, as well as his own determination, and knew what he had to do. What he had done once before, however unintentionally. 

He pulled from his own mixed essence, letting it flood out into the air from his chest, channeling that power into his father’s wounds. The power smothered out the flames of the fel, and all of the crater’s roots, coming to rest within the man’s chest. 

When the fel was gone, and Anduin’s energy ran dry, he dropped his channeling, and nearly fell forward, over his father. He felt dizzy and tired, hungry and unstable, but the green glow that ate away at his father’s life was gone, replaced with tons of tiny fresh red scars. 

He looked up to see his light barrier breaking, and knew his time was running thin. He looked down, finding the hearthstone from before, and thanked the heavens above for their gift. He grabbed it tightly, leaning over his father, grasping his father’s hands and shoving the stone into them, holding both the stone and his father’s hands tightly. 

As he began the stone’s cast, and their shared escape, he weeped. “F-Father, we’ll be okay, you’ll be okay, you’ll live!”

The stone’s green slow below slowly grew in strength, slowly blinding him. 

“I know you don’t believe me, father,” Anduin continued. “A-and that you’ll hate me,”

The barrier above broke, shattering into a million pieces. 

“-But please-”

The demons stepped closer, and closer. 

“-I’d rather spend eternity locked away and know your safe-”

All he saw was light.

“-then suffer alone!”

And then he saw dirt.

From behind, he was hit hard, fel burning at his side, the impact forcing him flying to the side, his hands no longer on the hearthstone. The stone’s light vanished, along with his father. He did not see this, hitting his head upon the plate of a demon’s boots, blacking out to the sound of an orc’s laughter.

-...-

Screams. Crying. Pain. visions flickered across the darkness, and Varian awoke gasping for air. 

“He’s awake!”

Varian saw above him a wooden roof, blue banners hanging from the wooden beams. He heard boots rush to his side, and looked over to see two Stormwind medics, as well as Genn Greymane. 

“Varian!” The worgen cried out with relief, leaning over his injured friend. 

Varian frowned, confused for a moment, as to why he was here, and why he could only feel pain when he moved. He glanced up at Genn, the man reading his thoughts. 

“You didn’t tell me you kept a hearthstone with you!” Genn barked. “Let alone one that lead to the Dwarven District, of all places!”

Varian looked away, no memory of ever having a hearthstone, no why it would be at the dwarven based inn and not his own keep. 

“You scared me!” Genn growled, though the fear laced in his voice was clear to all who heard him. “Varian!”

Then, Varian saw them again. Flashes of a distant, unclear memory. 

Anduin kneeling before him, strings of red magic flowing out of him, his eyes, despite glowing as red as the Earth-Warder, only held that of pure agonizing terror. 

He remembered, vaguely, the feeling of a hearthstone in his cold hands, and another pair of much hotter hands over his own. 

“Anduin!!” He sat up quickly, crying out as the pain from his chest hit every nerve in his body. 

The medics stepped back, unsure of how stable their king was, only to watch as Varian gasped in pain. 

“Varian, you need to-”

Varian faced Genn, his hand reaching out to tug at Genn’s arm. 

“I saw him!” Varian shouted. “He was there! Genn, he was there!”

Genn frowned, his hand pushing Varians shoulder down as the medics attempted to help relax the man. 

But how? How could he relax when Anduin had been there! At the very gates of Hell! The only one between him and death, and-

“Varian, you appeared alone.” Genn said quietly, knowing too what that meant. “It was only you.”

Varian felt terror consume him, shaking in the infirmary bed, as he realized the uncertainty of his son’s fate. 

Anduin didn’t return with him, and now Gul’dan had him.

How long his child had left to live, he had no idea, and it was all he could think of. 

-...-

Pain.

His headache, echoing with a migraine unlike any he’d ever felt. A voice, old and wicked, brought him from his darkness, and he opened his eyes to see.

He sat, chained and bound and cold, before the hunched orc warlock that had attempted to kill his father. 

Gul’dan laughed.

-...-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS is the chapter I have daydreamed of writing since I began plotting out the story. I would LOVE to hear your thoughts on this chapter, should you only ever comment on one. 
> 
> Remembrance Day IS an actual canon scene, though I had thought it happened before cata, not after. I did change some of it to fit the story, but the idea sticks. 
> 
> I've added some art and narcissus screenshots to some of the past chapters, let me know if they look awkward or anything. 
> 
> >:3


	13. Intermission

-...-

In the ruins of the Broken Shore, wind danced around lakes of fel and bones of the fallen. 

Somewhere, among the dirt, was a letter rolled into a scroll. The wind bit at it’s edges, causing small tares to form. The blue bow that held it closed weakened, yet did not give out. 

It read:

-

My Son,

A terrible darkness has returned to our world.   
As before, it seeks to annihilate everything that we hold dear.   
I go to face it, knowing I may not return. 

All my life, I have lived by the sword.   
I’ve seen kingdoms burn,  
And watched brave heroes die in vain. 

It’s been difficult for me to trust, after losing so much.  
But from you, I have learned patience, tolerance, and faith.

Anduin,

I now believe as you do.   
That peace is the noblest aspiration.  
But to preserve it,  
You must be willing to fight.

-

An imp, scouting the area, spotted the letter from afar. Quickly, the demon skipped over, picking up the letter from the ground and brushing off the dirt. The imp gazed at the rich blue bow, at it’s lion wax seal, and knew that this was important and valuable. 

He laughed, holding the letter closely, and ran off to find it’s master. 

-...-

Wrathion stood silently, eyes cast downwards, as he pulled the letters from his coat and placed them on the high king’s desk. The king watched him, confused and curious, a large and sturdy cane resting on the edge of the desk, a medic watching silently at the edge of the office. 

“Forgive me, your majesty.” Wrathion said, “I forgot that I had found these back in Northrend. Before I knew the truth. Before anyone did.”

Varian picked up both letters, eyeing them carefully, reading the names atop each one and frowning. He knew that handwriting more than anyone else. 

“This one is addressed to you.” Varian looked up at the Black Prince. 

“I believe it contains words you may need to hear.” Wrathion replied. “Know that I have it memorized. It is yours now.”

Varian watched the dragon bow, turned to leave, but then hesitated. He faced Varian again, pulling something else from his coat. He placed a single onyxian dragon scale onto the polished wood, gazed at it longingly, and then left the office. Varian turned his attention down to the letters, and picking them up, reading them.

-

Father,

I don’t know what’s happening to me. I spoke with the Life-Binder and she can prove to you that I am who I say I am. Now I am looking for the reasons why. When I know for sure, I’ll seek Velen and Alexstrasza’s aid, and I will return. 

Please,

Know that I am okay.

-Anduin

-

Wrathion,

I sought answers with the Life-Binder, however I have not heard yet anything but theories. She helped me learn how to use my newfound powers, but that alone is not proof to you nor anyone else that I am Prince Anduin Lane Wrynn. I believe I may be able to find answers elsewhere, and when I do find them, I will return. 

This last week has hurt so much, but please know that I do not blame you nor father for what was said or done. 

Light knows, I would have had a similar reaction. Trauma runs deep into any crack Onyxia formed.

-Anduin

-

Varian leaned back in his chair, a slight shake overcoming his hand as he held both letters. He stared at them, emotions taking over, his eyes glossy.He placed them down onto the desk, turning his attention to the dragon’s scale. Anduin’s scale. He picked it up, holding it tightly in his palm, and swore that it was already warm. Pain shot through his chest, and he began coughing loudly. 

“My King,” the medic at the other end of the room stood up. “It is time we check on your wounds again.”

Varian continued his fit until his entire chest rang with pain, playing as fuel to the flame that was the burning of energy that sat uncomfortable within him. That feeling has been with him since he returned from the Broken Shore, nothing the medics and healers did could rid him of it. 

Once his fit was finished, he downed the glass of water to his side, and struggled with the cane to stand up. He gripped the scale in his hand, not yet wanting to let go.

The medic rushed to his aid, and the two left the office.

-...-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An intermission, before the next act.


	14. (Un)received

-...-

Varian walked towards his room, the weight of the crown heavy on his head, yet worn enough to go unnoticed. His hair, messy yet combed, lay across his shoulders like some sort of lion’s mane. His eyes were bright, his face unscarred. He holds his head high, prideful of the rebirth of his new kingdom, long has her rebuilding been something he starved for. His royal guards stood tall, at their stations, and watched as he strode by. 

As he made it to the king’s bedroom, the guards held open the doors for him, and as he entered, they closed the doors behind him. 

The room, large and full of light from the open windows, was mostly quiet, save for the quick scribbles of a pen on paper. Varian glanced over to see his wife hunched over the bedroom’s desk, writing away. He placed his crown to the side, sitting on the edge of the bed to take off his shoes, and enjoy a moment of relaxation away from prying eyes. 

He laid back against the bed, arms under his head, and closed his eyes to enjoy the closest thing to silence he’s had all day. No nobles talking his ears off, no guards, no nothing. Even the sound of pen on parchment, usually annoying to him, wasn’t so when it was his wife’s doing. 

Varian sat back up, after a few minutes, to walk across the room and stand beside Tiffin. 

“Bored?” She asked him with soft laughter, leaning into his touch while still focusing on her letter. 

“Curious.” Varian replied, looking over to see what she was writing about. Tiffin mocked hiding the paper, but made no effort to really hide it from him. 

Varian wasn’t gonna pry too much, purely scanning over the letter and getting that it was essentially a retelling of one of Tiffin’s stories. Something that she remembered from childhood, something she’d told Varian before. He saw Tiffin was on her fifth page, himself unsure how she could write so well and keep that quality so long. Varian hated to write long letters. How had her wrist not broken off by now?

“You haven't addressed it yet.” Varian pointed out, spaces left in areas where Tiffin would address who she was writing too. 

Tiffin had reached the end of the page, and finally, closed the letter off with her own signature. Beside her signature, a small heart. She placed the pen down and spread out each page, scanning over her work.

“I plan on going back and writing their name when I know it.” She replied. “Until then, no wax seal.”

Varian looked at her with amused but confused brows. “You don’t know the name of who you’re writing personal stories to?”

Tiffin looked up at him with a smile, at the same time gently patting her nine month pregnant belly. 

“Oh-” Varian realized, the letters making sense now. 

Tiffin turned back to the desk and set the letters atop a wooden box, carved with a griffon. 

“I plan on getting this carved too, when we know if it’ll be a boy or a girl.” She said. “Princess Llane, or Prince Anduin.”

Their child was only a week or two away from birth, and you could tell that Tiffin was more than ready to lose the weight. It’d been affecting her health a great deal. Many things were very stressful to the couple since the news of their first child, but what was clear to them was the name of their child. Varian wanted to name his son after one of his own childhood heroes, Anduin Lothar. It was Tiffin’s idea to name a daughter after King Llane, mentioning her own belief that Llane sounded like a good girls name too. Varian had asked if she had anyone she wanted to name a child after, and though she thought long and hard on her own answer, she said no. She liked Princess Llane. 

She never did explain any farther. 

“What’s the box for?” Varian asked, Tiffin playing with the box’s edges and admiring the craftsmanship. 

Tiffin handed the box to Varian, who looked it over, including it’s carvings, it’s metal lock, and it’s soft padded empty inside. 

“Shortly after I was born, my mother put together a box, i’m told looked similar to this one. She told my father it wasn’t supposed to be opened until my eighteenth birthday.” Tiffin explained. “What she put in it, i don’t know.. A lot has happened since she put it together, and I’ve never been able to find it.”

Varian felt the sorrow in her words.

“I’ve asked Shaw if he could search the old Ellerian properties in Westfall for it, I’m sure he had better to do, but he told me there was no trace.” She then shook away the sadness. “He did find some old papers my parents wrote, gave those to me, which I am very happy to have.”

“I could have them look again.” Varian said, unsure of what else he could do. 

Tiffin shook her head. “It’s not as important to me anymore. I’m putting together a box for our child, something for them to open when they turn eighteen. Full of things I would have liked to have of my mother’s.”

Varian took one last look at the wooden box, an empty space in the carvings, big enough for a first name. It was beautiful, and a cute idea. Something he would have liked from his own parents. He placed the box back on the desk. 

“You’re going to fill it with letters?” Varian asked. 

Tiffin shook her head. “No, though I’m still unsure of what else I want to put in there.” 

She sighed, looking a little defeated. “I don’t know what an 18 year old boy would want of their mother’s.”

Varian gently picked up Tiffin’s hand, holding them with love, her gaze meeting his own. 

“If I could have something of my mother’s, anything, it would be anything that mattered to her.” He replied. “Necklaces, earrings, bracelets, makeup, letters, a rock. Anything.”

Tiffin chuckled, pulling her hand back. “Thank you.”

She turned to the desk, picking up a silver locket that had been sitting to the side. It was one that required a key to unlock. 

“There are so many things I’ve thought about giving them, but I’m so afraid something a daughter might cherish a son might not.”

It was a real concern to her, though Varian would remind her many of times over that no true loving son would turn away their mother’s jewelry. Varian would kill to have something of his own mother’s survive the first fall of Stormwind, though nothing was ever found in the ashes.

Varian placed his hand on her shoulder, taking her from her thoughts, and helped her out of the chair, to walk over to the bed to rest. She complained of the sores sitting in the chair gave her, and he offered to fetch her whatever she needed to feel better. All she asked, however, was for his embrace.

-...-

The High King’s bedroom was small and darkened, messy and hazardous, but it was Varian’s only escape from reality. 

The bed took up a fourth of the space, his desk, drawers, and fireplace taking up much of the rest. He had a small private bathroom, and a large dusty carpet covering the wooden flooring, and thick curtains blocking a lot of the sun’s rays. It was essentially a cave, and if you asked any of the other nobles about it, they would tell you it was appalling the conditions of the bedroom the HIGH KING lived in. 

But Varian loved it. 

The room was never meant to be the High King’s personal chambers. It was originally built as a closet, but then was turned into a nursery for Anduin when he was born. However, Tiffin wanted Anduin to sleep in a crib in the king and queen’s bedroom, so the nursery went unused. It was then set up for Anduin to move into, but Tiffin’s death changed everything. 

Varian found the large king’s bedroom to be far too cold and lonely after her passing. He grew to hate the open space, the large windows, the everything. None of it felt right without Tiffin. As soon as Prince Anduin could sleep in a room by himself, Varian took the nursery and made it into his room, and gave the prince the room that was built for the king and queen. 

It surprised the entire keep, that the young toddler prince would get to sleep in the biggest bedroom in likely all of Stormwind, and the nobles didn’t like this, but Varian was set on his decision. He wanted what he moved into, and Anduin made use of all the space in his own room, so there was nothing wrong in what he did. 

The room he had wasn’t even connected to a visitation room, but Varian found little use for one anyway, always meeting people in his own office.

Varian sat, alone, at his bedroom’s desk, warmed by the fireplace, a candle dimly lighting up the area as well. He leaned back in the wooden leather-bound chair, staring at the object he had laid on the desk, his breathing slow and relaxed. 

Relaxed, but not at peace. 

An old wooden box sat there staring back at him. Each side had deep, beautiful, detailed carvings, the top with a featherful griffon, and a name. 

Anduin.

Today would’ve been the day. 

Today, Anduin turned 18 years old. 

Varian’s hand shook against the arms of his chair, and he breathed in to attempt to settle himself. An effort that did little to help. 

Anduin wasn’t here. 

The box sat unreceived.

-...-

The city was quiet. 

It had been, ever since the Legion attacked Westfall, however this day carried an air to it that weighed heavy on the city’s people. Fear of the legion clutched their hearts, and celebration would have been a good way to help lighten spirits. Unfortunately, the beloved crown prince was gone, and while the citizens still had little idea on the whereabouts of the whelp they’d seen weeks ago, word reached that the Prince was captured during the Westfall invasion, and rumors of his involvement in the Broken Shore invasion existed here and there. 

No one really knew anything for sure, only that their prince was gone. 

Stormwind’s people loved their prince. Even those who opposed the Wrynn house acknowledged Anduin’s charm, his friendliness, his youthful joy and his aura of love and peace. Anduin was a pleasure to spend time with, no matter who you were, no matter your standing. Anduin spent his entire life working on his relationship with his people, and it paid off in times of need. 

It made the city a dark and dim place when he went missing. 

Varian had seen a similar sight when Anduin went missing on Pandaria, though he remembered things a little less dark and dim. Maybe it was because the Legion wasn’t over them, maybe it was because Anduin was confirmed alive by anyone who saw him. 

Maybe, had it not been a very important day in the life of a human, per human culture, things would not feel so bad. 

But they do.

Varian stood looking over the side of the stone railing, standing to the side of the statue of himself, before the entrance of the keep. Below him, the fountain, stairs to the right and left of the statue leading down to the open court entrance, and the rest of the city. 

Citizens, apparently, had made a small memorial, placing a picture of the young prince atop the fountain’s edge, candles and flowers surrounding. Below the fountain, below the picture, were birthday gifts. Varian watched as citizens came and went, leaving birthday gifts for the prince, praying before the fountain, whispering plees to the gods they worshiped, hopeful and desperate. 

They mourned. 

Varian hated it. 

“How thoughtful, don’t you think?”

Beside him, looking down upon the citizens, the memorial, was one of the nobles. Aldous Lescovar, the current head of his house in the court of Stormwind. Varian never liked him, not after his rude conversations towards Jaina Proudmoore all those years ago, yet did appreciate the man’s growing confidence, to some degree. He talked too much, and in a court where no one wanted to talk at all, not directly to the king, the man could….sometimes...be useful. 

Now, eh, not so much.

“They act as though my son is dead.” Varian growled through his teeth. 

Lescovar sighed, and Varian could just feel the man roll his stupid eyes. 

“Your majesty, of course the city is taking this as if he’s dead.” He said, raising his voice oh so slightly, importance in his words, though not wanting to be heard by anyone else. “Prince Anduin is in the hands of the Burning legion. The Burning Legion!” Lescovar dangerously close to addressing the king by his first name.

He continued, quieter “Any sane person would know that we will never see him alive again.”

‘Not that I would ever consider myself sane’ Varian thought, but wasn’t about to say that aloud to a noble. 

Lescovar glanced at the king, watching as he tried his best to keep in his emotions, as he continued to watch the citizens below, as he watched the pile of gifts grow, with no one here to receive them. 

“If the Legion hasn’t killed him yet, it’s because they wait for the right moment to kill him in your face.” Lescovar continued, frowning down at the memorial. “Stormwind’s people lay in wait for their beloved prince’s corpse. All that there is to hope for now is the ability to bury him at home, before our planet falls to the flames.” 

Varian clearly did not react well to the man’s words, and expecting this, the nobleman stepped to the side to avoid getting hit in retaliation. But, nothing came other than harsh glares. Varian might have wanted to pour his anger into the noble, however not in front of his city. Also, while as awful as the man’s words sounded, there was a dark truth to them Varian never wanted to face in his own thoughts. 

He dwelled on his words for a moment, before shaking his head, stepping back from the memorial and towards the keep. Lescovar turned, watching the man step back. 

“My son is not dead!” Varian snarled, his voice just loud enough for the nearby guards to turn and watch. “If he were, I’d expect those demons to send me his head presented by an imp! Something! Something to spit in my face, to crush my spirit!”

“Your majesty-”

“But they’ve not, meaning that his IS alive and that he WILL be found and rescued!” Though his words were directed at Lescovar, Varian felt too that he was talking to himself. 

“Do not mistake inaction on their part as evidence they’ve a heart!” Lescovar overstepped his position, talking back to the king. “The hope you have is the torment they’ve deemed you!” 

Lescovar, as well as the surrounding guards, were surprised when Varian did not reply, instead turning to escape back into the keep, leaving with nothing but an angered huff. The nobleman sighed, crossing his arms as he turned to look at the citizens’ memorial again. 

Varian needed to believe that Anduin was alive, and that he was safe, or that he would be safe, and he’d return home. All of the nobles, all of the royal guards, knew this. But it was hard to play this game of pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t, and the demons known for destroying worlds finally returned to take theirs. 

As far as his advisors agreed, Varian needed to be realistic. Not a dreamer, like his son so unfortunately was. 

“Seems like nothing has ever changed.”

Lescovar turned to see one of the patrolling royal guards approach. It was Captain Garrick, known for leading expeditions outside of Stormwind, she was recently recalled to Stormwind in an upgraded royal guard unit, due to the increased hostile activity against the crown. The Defias, an offspring of Onyxia, and now the Burning Legion??? 

“King Wrynn was just like this when Prince Anduin was lost in a shipwreck upon a new island.” Garrick continued, placing her hands on the marble railing, looking sorrowfully at the memorial. “It seemed impossible that he’d survived.”

She paused, her grip tightening against the marble. 

“I know how he feels.” She continued. “How it feels to hear your son, keen in the Light’s eyes, has gone missing in a wreck upon an undiscovered island.”

“Henry’s disappearance was nowhere near as threatening as the prince’s.” Lescovar frowned. Garrick expected a similar response from the nobel, and ignored his tone. 

“It was to me.” She replied. “If you were a father, Lescovar, you would understand...I hope.”

“And your point?” He pushed. 

“King Wrynn is grieving the same way he did before. Refuses to believe his son is dead, because the moment he acknowledges his son could be dead, it’s all over. His entire demeanor will change for the worse. Hope is quite literally the only thing that will keep him sane in this.” Garrick explained. 

Lescovar glared at her, raising his voice slightly. “As long as he refuses to entertain the possibility of the prince’s death, he will refuse to declare a replacement for his heir. He will ignore beginning the process of protecting the kingdom in the long run under the future in which his son is dead.” Lescovar shook his head. “I get grieving, but we’re not asking him to remarry and to have another child! He won’t choose another family, not even a general, not even a temporary heir.”

“He will make that decision when the time comes.” Garrick replied. 

“When he’s dead! And Stormwind will have to fight herself to decide a new leader.”

“You admit the faults in having a nobility class that canno-”

“Shut it, Captain Garrick. You speak out of your position.”

The two glared at each other, the nobleman known to be a rather disrespectful asshole. Captain Garrick would put in a complaint, however this was something the king knew, and there was hardly anything anyone could do. 

Captain Garrick nodded her head, turning to leave the nobleman to his place. 

Down, below the statue, standing within the crowd of citizens, was a mage and a hunter. 

Maliphos and Tako Manasaber attended the birthday memorial, standing before the pile of gifts, the candles, and the picture. They stood, side by side, tall as both a draenei and a night elf amongst mostly humans. 

They stood very close, their shoulders brushing each other. 

They stood in silence, for an unknown amount of time, tuning out the sounds of their surroundings. 

“We’ll find him.” Maliphos finally spoke, glancing up to Manasaber, seeing the guilt in her eyes. 

They both felt guilty in the disappearance of their beloved prince. 

They’d had good intentions, revealing the presence of an onyxian whelpling hiding in the court, yet it backfired hard. King Varian didn’t blame them, nor had Anduin when Manasaber last saw him in the Exodar. 

That said, had they not sought out the whelp, would Anduin still be home, safe, celebrating his birthday, even despite the green in the skies?

It wasn’t a question they’d get an answer to. 

Maliphos tried to see the light in the darkness, but she knew that Manasaber took this much harder. 

“We’ll find him, Tako.” Maliphos said again, her hand gently touching Manasaber’s.

Manasaber took a deep breath, reaching into a small bag attached to her belt, pulling out a single shiny onyxian whelpling scale. Maliphos looked confused, had no idea the mage had it, but didn’t question. She only watched as the mage slowly walked up to the pile of gifts, and found a place to lay the scale, making it look like it belonged. 

Manasaber let out a sigh, her words weak. 

“I meant to give this back to you.” She said, looking up from the scale to the portrait. 

He was happy, bright eyed, smiling. He sat proper, back straight, in his most expensive princely robe. 

Maliphos saw Manasaber shake a bit, the hunter stepping forward to pull her attention away from the portrait. 

“Tako, let me take you home.” Maliphos frowned. “We’ll meet Khadgar tomorrow. It’s fine.”

Manasaber blinked tears from her eyes, wiping them angrily. She hated crying. 

“It’s not fine.” She said, but continued before Maliphos could reply. “But please, let’s go.”

Maliphos and Manasaber turned away from the memorial, the two off to walk back to the mage quarter. In their place, a woman stepped up to the memorial. Her image hidden by robes and a spell. 

Despite being before the memorial, not a single person, citizens nor guard, noticed her, nor looked her way. 

As was plan. 

She walked up to the pile of presents, eyeing them over, smirking slightly at the prince’s portrait. 

“Forgive me.” She said. “You were such a nice boy, the days I knew you.”

She reached down, picking up the dragon scale left there by Manasaber, slipping it into her robes, and quickly turned away, escaping the scene of the memorial. 

-...-

Varian locked himself away in his office after returning into the keep after watching the citizens’ memorial. He’d been able to distract himself from his worries only through important paperwork and letters, and by the light was there a lot to do. With the Legion invasion, he’d had more work to do then any other war. This was far more than just two warring factions, this was a worldwide effort, and everyone needed aid from the Alliance and Horde. 

It didn’t help that most of the most powerful Alliance champions were pulled away from him by Khadgar. What the mage needed them for, he had no idea, and would really like to know. Those champions were very valuable to Varian. 

All that said, it was times like these the man was glad to have Valeera Sanguinar around. 

The elf walked in without an announcement, not that she needed to announce herself. She was welcomed into the office at any time, no questions. Varian glanced up to see her build up the fireplace’s flame before even coming to greet him.

“Cold in here?” He asked her. 

She smirked, walking over to the desk, a box in her hands.

“You don’t think so?” She asked him. 

Varian motioned over to the drink he had off to the side. “Hadn’t noticed.”

“Understandable.” Valeera nodded, leaning against the desk. 

Varian looked down to the box in her hands, a wooden box covered in dust and carvings. Other then that, it seemed unimportant. 

“Uh, before anything else, have you seen the Black Prince recently?” She asked him, pulling his attention back up. 

Varian shrugged. “I usually don’t know where he is, sorry. Haven’t felt the need to have his location reported to me since...at least two years.” 

He thought it strange Valeera would want to know. “What for? Never saw the two of you as friends.”

“I have a few letters to deliver for the Uncrowned.” Valeera said. “Figured mister head-of-an-entire-network-of-spies would be interested.”

Made sense. “So you’ve convinced the Uncrowned to help us?” He asked. 

Valeera’s ears lowered a bit, and she hesitated to answer. He knew the answer before she gave it.

“Not...yet?” She frowned. “I’ve not been able to get a meeting with everyone yet, but I plan to soon. I thought that if I had the Black Prince with me, I could make a stronger case.”

Varian didn’t reply. He and Valeera could continue to hope, but he still doubted heavily. 

“Anyway” Valeera turned to the box she had, holding it out before Varian, the placing it down onto the desk. “I visited Westfall this morning. Vancleef had a gift for you.”

Varian felt uneasy, but Valeera looked more than confident. Almost...excited? 

“The sentence ‘Vancleef has a gift for you’ has never sounded appealing to me, Val.” Varian glared at her.

“Look, Look!” Valeera edged the box closer to him.

Varian huffed, adjusting in his chair to give the box his full attention.

It was old, dusty, wood that threatened to rot away had it not been treated with polish and protective layers. It had carvings all over each side, flowers and leaves, though many of the small edges homed splinters waiting to happen. On the top, an intricate carvings of farmland. Beautiful, green farmland, with a lone house in the distance, and the sea far beyond. 

His gloved hands picked up the box, slowly, fearing that it would crumble to age. 

He turned it, to see the panel that Valeera so deliberately hid from him. 

His eyes widened, and he placed the box down, now terrified of breaking it, for it may just disappear in front of his eyes. 

On it’s side, carved in, was the name ‘Tiffin’. 

Varian stared at it for too long, feeling as though he had no air in his lungs. He remembered the story, what Tiffin told him, how her mother had one made, but…

He looked up to Valeera for answers. 

“Vancleef said they found it in one of the shoreline houses destroyed by the Legion in their invasion. Found it in the rubble.” Valeera smiled. “No idea why it was there, it wasn’t one of the properties the Ellerian house owned, not that we know about.” 

Varian looked back to the box, curiosity overcoming him. But he hesitated to open the box, knowing it was never meant for his eyes. 

It was meant for Tiffin. 

But, he knew, she wasn’t here to receive it. 

Nor was Anduin. 

Varian shook his head, pushing the box away slightly, turning to his drink instead. Valeera looked at him surprised. She expected him to look inside, see what Tiffin’s mother left her daughter. 

“What are you going to do with it?” She asked him.

Varian placed his drink back down, looking at the box again. It was the same size and shape as the one Tiffin left for Anduin, the one he wasn’t here to receive. The one that sat on his desk in his bedroom. 

“I’ll give it to Anduin.” He said, “When he gets back, he will enjoy opening it.”

Valeera nodded. “He will.”

A gift, for when he returned. A box from his mother, as well as a box from his grandmother. While not intended for him specifically, Varian knew how much Anduin valued having things that connected him to his mother. 

Varian cleared his throat, putting his paperwork aside, standing up from his chair. 

“Thank you, Valeera.” He said, ignoring the drink and taking hold of the box, holding it gently in his arms. 

Valeera watched as he walked around the desk. 

“Let me know if you need anything.” She replied, watching as the man walked towards the door. She began following, if not just to leave the room along with him. 

“What would I do without you.” 

They two parted, Varian walking across the keep back to his bedroom, the guards standing attention a bit surprised by his early turn in. He didn’t really think of it as a turn it for the night, but he wanted to escape again. 

He walked inside, alone, in his dim room, straight to the desk.

He placed the box carved with ‘Tiffin’ right beside the box carved ‘Anduin’, and sat to dwell in his thoughts.

-...-

It didn’t take Valeera too long to find the Black Prince. 

She found him standing to the side of the fountain, leaning back against the city’s stone wall, watching. His burning red eyes stared at the royal servants, who’d come down as the sun was falling to collect the many gifts left for the prince by the fountain. 

Valeera walked over, standing beside him, watching them too. They stood together in silence for awhile. 

Men and women, guarded by the Stormwind tabards, walked in and out of the keep with the gifts in hand, the pile growing smaller and smaller till it was nonexistent. They left the candles lit, and the portrait where it stood. 

Valeera senses Wrathion shifting his weight onto his other leg. 

“What are they going to do with the gifts when there is no one there to receive them?” He asked. 

Valeera glanced over to the dragon, though it appeared his eyes were still on the fountain. The portrait?

“Well,” She cleared her throat. “They get shifted through by the SI:7 before being handed to the crown.”

“I know that.”

“After, I suppose they’ll sit in storage until Anduin comes back.” Valeera continued. “Or Varian decides to do something with them before then.” 

Wrathion hummed, crossing his arms against his chest. Valeera awaited a reply, something, but nothing ever came. So, she shifted through a small bag at her side, pulling out a letter. She held it out before the Black Prince, waiting for him to take it. 

He looked at her with curious eyes, taking it and inspecting it’s paper and seal. 

“Something for me?” He inquired. 

“I can get Anduin more help.” She said, meeting his gaze. “But I need your help.”

Wrathion nodded, looking back down to the letter. It’s seal unknown to him, not a symbol of any Alliance or Stormwind authority, nor anything that appeared Valeera-y. 

It’s paper was slightly torn, old, nothing of high quality, and the closer Wrathion inspected the more clear it was to him. The letter was encased in a spell, protecting it from the eyes of those it was not intended for. 

The letter reeked of rogues. 

-...-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got notes planned up to chapter 30, though there will be more then that. Also really want to write a pirate Jerek story, but I told myself I needed to work more on Son of Onyxia first. 
> 
> Hope you liked this chapter! Please let me know your thoughts! :D


	15. Sha of Fear

-...-

Time didn’t exist anymore. 

Not for Anduin.

He’d lost track of it, and now he sat in chains and isolation, unsure of just how long he’d been here. 

How long had it been since he’d last seen his father. 

He wasn’t sure if it’d been hours, or days, maybe even weeks, but time, should it even exist anymore, passed on without him. Was it day or night? Midday or midnight? 

Had his birthday passed? Was he seventeen or eighteen? If It had, was it yesterday? Or what if it was today? Right now? How had he ended up imprisoned by space demons instead of at home, celebrating coming of age? 

One thing Anduin did know, and spent every waking moment processing, was that he’d never felt so low. 

So hopeless. 

Fear, doubt, and despair controlled him, dragging his mental state down and down, into a darkness that never seemed to have a ‘rock bottom’. If only there was one, so that he could hope. Once you hit ‘rock bottom' it was only up from there. 

He did try. He tried to think positively, no matter how hard it was. Despite the slight tremble that kept his body from being still, despite the cold that seeped into his bones, despite the timelessness. 

He called to a more positive state of mind, asking himself how he managed to find hope in the past. He fell back into his memories in search for guidance, for there was no one here to aid him. 

In the darkness, he remembered a voice from the mists. 

A story, a legend, of an emperor, frozen in fear, doubt, and despair.

He, too, faced impending doom from the fel green skies. 

So how did he push through? What lessons did he learn in order to make it through and save his people? 

As much as Anduin wanted to give in to his fears, he knew that doing so could mean his end. So he called back to the stories he learned from Pandaria, and tried to internalize them. 

He remembered the Black Ox, speaking to him, and his voice felt soothing, despite it just a memory. 

‘But I am paralyzed by fear, the young emperor cried.’ The Ox spirit told the young human prince. ‘I told him, You must not let fear control you. You must control your fear. Then, you will find you can walk again.’

Somehow, thinking back on the spirit’s words gave Anduin a feeling of calm. 

A calm shattered and forgotten upon returning to reality. 

“You’re being summoned,” Two large ereder were unchaining him, dragging him out of his prison. “You step out of line and you’re dead.” 

As the chains dropped to the ground, the noise it made was loud and pounding at his ears. It hurt, but he had no time to give the pain any mind, when the large fel corrupted draenei yanked at his body, pulling him up and along as they marched out of the cell, through the ship, to their master. 

He’d not face Gul’dan or anyone else since he was captured. The only interactions he had for the last unknown amount of days was an imp force feeding him. It was mush, akin to rotten mashed potatoes, and it wasn’t enough to keep him energized. Not that they would want him to get good food, and it was clear, for he was already losing fat. 

As they dragged him, he was consumed by fear, terror, and could not take any joy in the fact that his wrists were now free of painful cuffs, or that his body finally got to move around more than a feet at most. No, despite wanting to look for the hope in a hopeless place, fear settled into the pit of his stomach and took root. The longer it took, the more demons they passed, the closer they got to Gul’dan, the more he shook. 

He felt tears, he was so scared. 

When the final doorway opened, and he found himself in the same room as the orc warlock, he felt as if he couldn’t breath. The air left his lungs and he only regained his oxygen when he was roughly dropped onto the floor before the orc. The eredar did not move, remaining at his sides, threatening him without the need for words. 

Gul’dan watched the young human tremble, leaning back, reclining in the chair he sat on. His staff, old rotted wood covered in the bones of the dead, laid within arm’s reach to his side. His green eyes burned into Anduin’s soul, and for an increasingly painful amount of time, that’s all he did. There was no smirk, no chuckle, no mocking. 

Anduin was sure that every being on the ship could hear the sound of his heart beat through his ears. 

Finally, the warlock shifted in his chair, his bone necklace clattering together, leaning forward just enough to make Anduin lean back slightly. 

“So,” Gul’dan’s voice was old and torn. “How did you of all beings take down an entire ship?”

Anduin’s mind felt like mush, and he was unsure he’d process the orc’s words. His question. He didn’t expect it. He opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off with a more demanding tone. 

“When you escaped our ship, you left it burning into the sea.” Gul’dan growled, taking his staff and limping his way closer to the human boy. He snatched Anduin’s chin, forcing the boy from his hiding. “How did a human do all that?”

Anduin tried to pull his head back, and the orc surprisingly easily let Anduin go. The Orc stood back, clearly waiting for an answer. 

“I-” Anduin felt his voice crack instantly. It’d been days since he last spoke aloud. “I didn’t….”

When he left the ship, it was untouched. He didn’t set it ablaze, nor did he make it fall into the ocean. He had no idea what he was being questioned about. 

“Don’t be bashful, child.” Gul’dan eyed him. “This ship means nothing to me, the Legion is infinite. I am just curious over your new...powers.”

Gul’dan looked to the dragon horns on Anduin’s head. Horns were not a thing humans were known for, but Gul’dan was not completely clueless. The Legion has been watching the people of Azeroth for a while now, and while there was much he didn’t know, he could make guesses to fill in the blanks. 

Anduin wasn’t completely human, but all that information meant to the warlock was that a previously interesting prey was all that more interesting, not just to him personally, but to that of the Legion itself. 

“How did a Wrynn harbor the ability to control the powers of dragons?” Gul’dan continued. “I suppose that brood mother wasn’t finished with your family…”

“Funny,” The orc turned to walk back towards his chair. “Neither am I.”

A shiver went down Anduin’s spine. He wasn’t so sure what the orc had to do with his family, why he cared, and the unknown only fueled his fear. Yet, in that moment, with the orc’s back facing him, he replied. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He said, his shoulders lifting a bit. “No one saw my leave, I didn’t do anything to that ship.”

Gul’dan stopped and turned back to face the prince, his frown turning to a smirk. 

“You admit more than you mean to, young prince.” He said, and Anduin shrunk down again. “You are an interesting mortal.”

Had Anduin longer ears, they’d fall back. “I...I wasn’t…”

“You managed to escape an entire ship of legion eyes, as one of the prized prisoners, without being seen? You managed to do all that, and somehow the ship and it’s entire crew were killed without you?” Gul’dan then burst into laughter. 

When his laughter died, it was replaced with malice. 

“Do not test me, Wrynn grandson.” He spoke, a frown growing on his face as he stepped closer. “The powers you hold will not free you here, not while you are in my grasp. Should you try…”

He paused, as if in thought, and his eyes dropped from glaring into Anduin’s own to Anduin’s arm. He glanced back up only to grin, scaring the human more, as he snatched the human’s arm. Anduin gasped as the orc’s much larger hand and fingers gripped his thin wrist, pulling it swiftly and nearly breaking it all in one go. 

“The Legion does not play nice.” Gul’dan growled, an emphasis on nice. 

Anduin shook violently, and he did not mean to pull back, to struggle, he knew better. But he did it anyway, out of fear, and the warlock responded harshly to the defiance. His grip tightened, claws digging into the fragile skin, and a bright green magic began to glow. 

It burned even before he saw it. 

The green latched onto his skin like a paste, sinking into his cells, tainting all that it touched below, soaking into his bones. He could feel it do all of this, and the more it took of him, the more it hurt. Anduin ground his teeth together, staring into the green with wide eyes, tears falling down his cheeks as she fought to keep silent. 

As the green traveled slowly up his arm, appearing as liquid traveling down cracks, Gul’dan only watched the human’s reaction. It pleased him, but he could make it even sweeter. He empowered the fel, twisted his arm more, and Anduin could stay silent no more. 

He let out a cry, giving into his tears, closing his eyes, the green reflecting off of them removed. It was loud, yet broken and pitiful. 

Gul’dan let go of the human’s arm, letting the child drop back onto the floor, chuckling at the sight. 

“Broken so easily.” Gul’dan said, watching Anduin bend over his arm, trying to mend it.

The light would mend it, the orc knew, for the fel hadn’t really taken hold quite yet. But, as it was the light the child was using, it would burn and sting and continue to keep him in pain while the cracks healed. The light was only soothing when it was the only form of magic in control. When it cleansed another, it hurt. 

“Take him back,” Gul’dan looked to the eredar. “We will see each other again soon.”

Anduin wasn’t given a moment to prepare, as he was roughly lifted and dragged across the ship again, though this time he felt an awful pain in his arm, and could not properly heal it while they carried him. 

They dropped him back in his chains and left him in fear and isolation again.

-...-

Anduin was fed four times before Gul’dan summoned him again. It seemed that bitter mush would be his only attempt at reforging a connection to time. His current guess was that two feedings equaled a day and night cycle, for he was previously used to eating three times a day, and that was clearly not aligning up with his body’s hunger cycle. 

He was always going hungry before the next round would appear. 

He was again dropped before the warlock, though this time the warlock was just ending a conversation with a few more important looking eredar. They stepped away, eyeing the prince with curiosity, leaving without word. 

The warlock waited for the eredar to leave before he spoke. 

“Gave up?”

Anduin saw the orc look to his arm, where he’d been burned. It was heavily bruised, a near nonexistent tint of green. Most of the damage that remained would heal over time. That said, it was still something Anduin could heal now and be forever rid of. But he hadn’t finished healing it. 

“Why?”

Anduin was silent. He didn’t want to talk, not after the pain from his wrist. He wasn’t even sure what to say. He knew how to talk his way around the nobles, around citizens, around enemies and neutral parties. He was smart both in mind and in tongue. 

He wasn’t sure how to speak to Gul’dan, how to minimize the pain he’d certainly be put through. 

And his silence made that fact obvious to the orc.

The orc hummed, grabbing his staff and sitting down comfortably in his throne.

“Why don’t you heal yourself while you still can, I don’t understand.” He grumbled. “Nor do I care.”

Gul’dan didn’t expect a reply, and none came. It was a bit disappointing, he enjoyed banter between himself and his prey, but that was fine. All that mattered to him at this moment was that he had what he wanted. 

Anduin Llane Wrynn captured, kneeling before him. 

There were a few different reasons he’d wanted the kid. The human proved time and time again to be a master at wielding any power he was given, and Gul’dan wanted to see him with the fel under his command. The child was devious, learned much under the guidance of some of the most influential individuals in the last twenty years of Azeroth’s history. One of which was the brood mother, Onyxia, who had acted as a second mother to him. It seemed there was more she’d taught the kid then he thought. 

Anduin was also very charismatic, beloved by almost everyone he met, and should Gul’dan be able to gain him as an ally, he could be used to help take down Azeroth’s defenders. 

There was also the fact that Gul’dan had previous experience dealing with Wrynns, however second handed, this time was much more direct. 

Anduin was much more interesting than that of his grandfather.

“Let’s get this over with.” He spoke, grabbing a hold of his staff to stand. 

The orc didn’t think the human would give into offers and join the Legion, he would need to be corrupted, but he wanted to try anyway. You never know what might turn a hero for the fel. 

“Your planet, your kingdom, your people are running out of time. The Legion will take over, and there is little time left to pledge your loyalty before you are turned to dust.” Gul’dan began his offer. “It would be in your best interest to give in now.”

Anduin watched him, still very clearly afraid, trying to keep face. He didn’t reply, and Gul’dan knew he was waiting.

“Speak, boy.” Gul’dan growled, watching the human’s eyes glance. 

“No.” The prince replied, though not very confidently. It was funny how sad it was. 

“No?” Gul’dan frowned. “Perhaps i’ve not made survival look appetizing enough to you. You will no longer need to cower in fear.” 

Anduin would rather spend his entire life in the claws of fear then betray Azeroth. He didn’t need to voice that. 

“Well,” Gul’dan seemed bored with the lack of banter, calling a fel flame to his hand and finding it much more engaging. “What motivates you?” He looked back to the prince. “What could possibly entice you to pick up fel as a weapon?”

He stepped closer to the human, only this time he didn’t seem to lean back. 

“You don’t need to answer, the Legion knows everything about you.” Gul’dan pointed the staff towards Anduin, and that did make the human lean back. “Everything.” 

He pulled his staff back. “We know you’ve a weeping heart, but there is nothing you care more for than that of your people, your home, and your family.” 

Anduin reacted, his face dropping. It was true, he cared greatly, and he feared Gul’dan would destroy them. The vision of the Legion forcing him to watch them all burn appeared in the prince’s head, and Gul’dan could read it on his face. 

“Practice the fel under the Legion’s guidance and I can promise your kingdom survives our flames.” Gul’dan said, and then conjured up an image in the flames in his hands, a picture of Stormwind. "You can lead them with your new powers."

Perfect, beautiful, untouched by the flames that surrounded it. Even as their leader ruled in it's glory. 

“No!” Anduin shook his head, refusing to look into the flames. “You can’t convince me.”

Seemed the kid slowly regained control over his own voice. Good. 

“Can’t I?” Gul’dan raised an eyebrow. “Is the survival of your kingdom not enough?”

He then chuckled. “What king you would have made, huh?” 

He let the flame flicker on, and a new image appear. An image of his father. 

“I admit, Llane’s son would have made a nice prize, but I suppose keeping him alive might be in your interest?” Gul’dan offered. “After all, the sacrifice you made was not one of the weak willed.”

Anduin frowned.

“Serve the Legion beside your father, your kingdom, and be their hero, save them from the doom they face otherwise.” Gul’dan held out the image in the fire, pretty much shoving it in the human’s face. “A good king would do anything to save what they rule.”

Anduin did not glare at the flame, but at the orc. “A good king would never sell their kingdom out. I know how this works. I’ve heard the stories of failed kings and queens before.”

Gul’dan raised an eyebrow. So, he is willing to speak out, despite the fear?

“You know then that Azeroth stands no chance.”

“Azeroth is special.” Anduin replied, but did not explain anymore. 

“Special? hmm.” Gul’dan paced a few steps, giving the prince a little most space. The flame disappearing as he rested his hand. “Perhaps I can give you a special offer, though be weary, stubborn prince. I only give you a chance now. You will fall to our will with or without your cooperation.”

Glaring. Fine. It’d be his last chance anyway.

“I’ll let your kingdom and your father free. Free of torment, free of corruption, free from the Legion.” Gul’dan offered. It wasn’t an offer he was sure he could keep, but he was never one to be afraid of lying to get what he wanted. “The only place on all of Azeroth that will survive.”

“Because of you, your people will be able to continue to live freely. All you must do is join the Legion.”

“And let my city exist alone?” Anduin wondered aloud. “What would there be to live for?”

“I thought all beings knew the importance of survival.” Gul’dan replied. “Survival of your people? Perhaps you think more like me. Maybe they don’t really matter to you. After all, no one has ever heard of the name of my clan. And no one ever will.”

“I’m nothing like you.” Anduin hissed, his shoulder shaking. But maybe this wasn’t of fear, maybe anger. “I do not hate like you do.”

“I see.” Gul’dan leaned on his staff. “But we all have something we would give up our perfect visions for.”

Anduin wouldn’t hear it, there was nothing anyone could do to make him fall so low. He’d spent his entire life telling himself that. He felt he had to. There weren’t many people like him on Azeroth. 

“I’d rather die then become an evil tool for the Legion.” Anduin spoke, though his voice was weaker. “I won’t entertain any path towards evil.”

“Ah, but yet you’ve listened and entertained the powers of the shadows before.” Gul’dan smirked. “And it seems recently, the powers of a corrupted dragonflight.”

Gul’dan laughed. “You hold much more potential in falling to evil then Arthas Menethil ever did.”

“I’m NOT Arthas!” Anduin half growled, a past trauma flashing through his mind. 

There was nothing Anduin loathed more than being compared to the last Lordaeron prince. 

“Of course not.” Gul’dan said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Because your ability to love would prevail against the frozen throne? Have you ever given it thought, what you might have done differently? You think yourself in a higher manner than what is true.” 

The orc was getting tired of this. 

“Maybe you need more time to ponder this. Maybe you desire something more than just your kingdom, your family.” Gul’dan said. “Maybe I could simply ask you. What would you give your life for?”

Anduin shook his head. 

“Nothing?” Gul’dan raised his head. “Not your home, not your father? Not the Alliance? Not the factions, not the planet? It was a simple question…” He then paused. “...you are only human though, i suppose. Stubborn, unwilling to admit what you love till it’s too late.”

And then an idea.

“Maybe...maybe there IS something else you love.” Gul’dan stepped closer to the human. “Someone else?”

Anduin looked confused. If he would not bow for his kingdom, nor his father, what else could Gul’dan even taunt him with? 

“The Legion knows much, but perhaps there are things kept only in your mind.” Gul’dan chuckled, conjuring a flame in his hand again. “Luckily, I have the key.”

The orc’s hand shot out, fingers pointing directly to Anduin, and the green fel flames channeled outwards, twisting into a sick purple. Anduin flinched, unable to move against the eredar beside him, the magic whirling around him and captivating him. He tried to look away, tried to blink it away, but it seeped into his mind and read his thoughts, his memories, and took what it wanted from what it found. 

Anduin gasped as he felt his head pound, the fel burning him as it interacted with his being. He ground his teeth together, biting away any screams of pain he may have produced, as the fel retreated, leaving him. The channeled magic returned to the flame within Gul’dans hands, and within the flame, an image appeared. 

The orc needed only to look inside the flame to understand. As he did, Anduin tried to recover from the pain of the spell, but the headache remained and his eyes felt strained. He breathed hard, looking up to try to see into the flame, to judge what just happened, but he found nothing.

As it flickered, and the orc appeared in thought, a wave of nausea hit the prince, and he hunched over, prepared to throw up. What felt like much more only ended up being a bitter liquid from his stomach mixed with spit, splattering to the floor. The awful taste remained. 

“I will make you one last offer.” The warlock said, standing closer to him then when he last looked up. He held out his hand, the flame bright, but the image in it visible to him. “The Legion will spare your city, all that remains inside, your father…”

An image of his city, his home, appeared. It changed to an image of his father. 

“...and the Black Prince.”

Beside his father, an image of Wrathion. 

“You answer to the fel, and all that you love will survive Azeroth’s downfall.”

Anduin stared into the flame, at the figures. At Wrathion. 

“It is inevitable, Azeroth’s downfall. This is your best path, one in which you protect everything that you love. The Legion will let them go, spare them, let them run. They will be guaranteed survival after all this planet has burned.” Gul’dan continued. “All you need to do is be loyal to me.”

Anduin stared into the flame for a long time, and while distant, the orc was sure the human was considering the deal. 

It was all lies. Anduin knew this. He wasn’t stupid. Why would the Legion ever keep their promise? They wanted Varian dead, they probably wanted the son of Deathwing, why would the Legion accept this? They wouldn’t. 

But…

Anduin was terrified. Terrified at making the wrong choice, dooming his people, and the Legion were an unstoppable force. All the stories he heard from people like Velen. What made Azeroth special? Her two biggest armies couldn’t go two years without attacking each other. What made him think she would survive the Burning Legion?

What if he accepted and was used against his people? Against his father? Against Wrathion? It would be easy to do. Far too easy. 

“No.” Anduin breathed out weakly, tired.

“No?” Gul’dan repeated. “You wouldn’t die for their survival?”

He hated Anduin Wrynn. They were two very different people. Came from very different backgrounds. Gul’dan was hated by his people, he wanted them dead, and he saw them dead. Anduin was loved by his people, by the people of other kingdoms, and Anduin advocated for the survival of all. All of that said…

“Are you not determined to forge your own fate?” Gul’dan asked, growling. “Do you wish for me to forge it for you? You and I are more alike than you want to believe!” 

The butt of the staff hit against the floor, making the prince flinch. “Everyone believes you are weak, ever since the bell they’ve pitied you, treated you as fragile, broken, cripple! Doesn’t that anger you? That no one takes your input into wars and politics seriously? That all you ever are to these people is a child? A boy!”

The words stung and he knew it.

“The way they look down on you is the same way they looked down upon me. Upon me before I burned them.” Gul’dan’s gaze burned. “Perhaps you only say no because you wish for them to suffer...as they deserve.” 

“No-I-” Anduin struggled to find words. “They don’t think that of me!”

“Really? Because the Legion sees all!” Gul’dan said, nails digging into the wood of his staff. 

He turned to the eredar.

“Take him back. Let him think about our talk.” He grumbled, then met Anduin’s look. “Go back to your mush. Remember, there is only one right answer.”

Gul’dan watched the eredar take Anduin away, back to his cell. Once they were out of the room, the orc huffed turning back to sit on his throne. He let the staff rattle as it was set back against his chair. 

An Imp entered the room.

“Pippep.” Gul’dan grumbled, the demon freezing. 

The first imp that made its way into his sight, he ordered to clean the floors of the entire ship.

-...-

It was never the same demon that came to feed him.

Sometimes it was a succubus, sometimes it was an eredar, but most of the times it was an imp. Different imps, all with different names. 

He assumed. They never liked to share their names. 

Anduin took another bite of the bitter mush shoved into his mouth, tired and exhausted from the fel that entered his mind. He stared past the imp, into the flooring, hardly taking in his surroundings. His mind traveled into space and into thought randomly. 

Anduin came to when he thought he’d heard someone talk. 

He saw the imp feeding him and realized something off. The imp looked angry. Like it was mad at him. Like feeding him was some sort of punishment. 

“Hm?” Anduin made a noise in response. 

The Imp frowned, made it’s own noise in response. 

“Deal.” It spoke in a grumpy tone, glaring up at him.

Anduin’s eyes widened. 

“It’s you.” He said. “I gave you the scales.” 

The imp huffed. 

“Why are you mad?” Anduin asked, but the only reply he got was a mouth full of mush.

The imp didn’t want to talk, and to be honest Anduin didn’t want to either. He swallowed his food, muttering an empty apology, hoping that maybe the imp would eventually tell him what he did wrong. 

The imp did not. Once Anduin was fed, the food gone, the imp left without a word. 

Somehow, that act of distrust, the look of anger, broke a string in his heart. The imp was hurting, because of him, and he didn’t know why. 

On top of everything that sat on his shoulders, he wept. 

-...-

“The Sha of Fear?”

The young human prince looked up to the black ox celestial, Niuzao, his glowing blue eyes peering back down. 

“The Sha of Fear.” The ox reiterated. 

“How do you win against it? How did Emperor Shaohao do it?” The prince asked.

“Fear will wear you down to your core, preventing you from making any moves. It will trap you like ember.” The celestial replied. “You must bear through it with great fortitude.”

“I don’t understand.” The prince frowned.

“Work with it, understand the roots of where your fears come from.” Niuzao answered. “You must not let your fears control you. You must control your fears.”

The prince stood, unsure, thinking deeply about the fears he had. Oftentimes they paralyzed him, kept him from functioning. He wanted to hear answers that would aid him in ridding his fears, not working alongside them. 

“Think deeply, young one.” Niuzao tried to comfort the child as soon as he sensed his anxiety. “All fears come from a basic need to survive. To prosper. They guide you, and without them, you will not be prepared for the tigers when they’ve come to feed.”

The prince began to understand. “My fear prepares me.”

“As long as you are in control of it.” 

The prince nodded. “I see now.”

“The Emperor used his fear, gazing into the embers of the Sha, and saw the answers to his troubles.” Niuzao added. “It was what helped him save the life of his friends. Of his kingdom.”

“Thank you.” The prince smiled. 

“I am glad to help.” Niuzao dipped his head. “But, you must understand, young prince, fear is not the only burden he conquered…”

-...-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recently re-watched The Burdens of Shaohao. Makes me want to roll a pandaren toon. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading and for the comments! I am super motivated after hearing your thoughts! :D


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